Little Red Riding Hood
by SusieSamurai
Summary: You can find the rewrite on my account under "Out Of The Woods" )
1. There Better Be A Dead Body

****Chapter One - There Better Be A Dead Body****

 _ _Little Red Riding Hood,__

 _ _I don't think little big girls should,__

 _ _Go walking in these spooky old woods,__

 _ _Alone__

 _ _-Little Red Riding Hood/Amanda Seyfried__

 ** **Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction****

* * *

Beacon Hills had nothing on Sunnydale.

I'd been here for all of a week now and there hadn't been a single vampire lurking in the alleys or lounging in the cemetery. Not that I ever understood the whole 'crypt' thing, it's like dude you're immortal – get into real estate. I get that cobwebs and crumbling stone lend themselves to the creepy aesthetic, but if I were to be faced with the possibility of eternity I would at least demand carpet, high water-pressure, and wifi.

A girl has needs after all. Even ones that have a Divine Calling for a short-lived life of violence and trying to get blood out of their clothes.

 _ _Into every generation there is born the Slayer –__ except for when the Slayer with a capital 'S' decides she's lonely and instead Calls __all__ of us. All 3000 of us.

 _ _The Chosen__ – ha! Unfortunate, more like.

 _ _She alone has the strength and skill –__ not to mention utter lack of common sense to go along with the lunacy that is the slayer lifestyle – __to fight the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness. To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers –__ also, their terrible fashion sense.

If I were to be completely honest, it wasn't even the slaying that I hated, it was the events that led to me becoming one. It's a bit difficult to be jazzed about gaining superpowers when you become an orphan in the process. I knew I wasn't the only one, there were plenty of girls that had been spirited away from similar situations seeking the protection that only the OG Slayer could provide. Turns out though that even she wasn't infallible.

Which, in retrospect, was entirely understandable. She hadn't been a general, she had been a soldier, and suddenly she was in charge of a group of scared disrespectful teenage girls. And then she had to deal with power-struggles from within her own group of trusted friends. To be honest though, seeing her like that, seeing her __human__ , made me respect Buffy Summers more than any fancy fighting move or battle plan ever could have.

It was why I had followed her once the battle with The First was over and Sunnydale was just a crater in the ground, instead of running off like I had originally planned. Buffy showed me that bravery wasn't being fearless, it was being scared and making the decision to do something about it. Like comforting a fifteen-year-old girl who had lost her entire family by teaching her to be strong. By channeling her anger into something productive. By showing her that she could use her loss as the driving force to make sure that she never allowed anyone else to feel the same way she did.

And to apparently refer to herself in the third-person when talking to herself. Myself. Ugh.

It was why I hadn't fought when I received my orders to relocate back to California. Honestly, I was actually a little over-joyed to be back home after the 3 months of Basic Training at HQ. Don't get me wrong – Scotland was gorgeous. All rolling moors and morning fog straight out of a Bronte book. But it was just so...green.

I was used to steel and concrete, shades of gray and gold and red and blue. I had been a San Francisco girl before us Potentials had started being knocked off like a mafia hit list and I was heading down the coast in the passenger seat of a yellow mini with my Watcher and blood still warm on my hands. The fact that the blood hadn't been mine made the situation worse, not better.

My phone suddenly started ringing to the tune of the Spiderman theme and shocked me out of my pity-party for one. Darting my eyes around, I found myself still utterly alone in the woods I'd been traipsing through for the past half-an-hour since abandoning my post on Alfred Wilkinsons tombstone – __great friend, excellent husband__ – where I'd been occupying my time with sharpening stakes. So that they weren't blunt if a vampire __ever__ decided to show up. With the size of the Beacon Hills Preserve – seriously, the town was like 70% woodlands – I was wondering if all the vamps here were out-doorsy health-nuts that preyed exclusively on late night hikers. After that drag-queen bumpy-face I'd been forced into dusting in a WallMart car-park my mind was firmly open when it came to life-styles of the undead and the soul-less.

Fishing my phone out of my jacket pocket I grinned to myself when I saw the name flashing on the screen.

"Wow, I'm worth the cost of a call from Scotland – I'm flattered."

" _ _Nah, I'm calling you collect,"__ A chirpy voice laughed at my sarcastic drawl. __"How's California? Is it sunny? I miss sunny."__

"Well, seeing as it's almost ten at night I would have to go with a resounding – not very sunny," I answered, unable to keep the smile out of my voice so my sarcasm kind of lost its edge. "So, why are you calling Dawnie? Miss me already? It's only been a week."

" _ _Haha__ Freddie _ _,"__ The inflection in her voice when she called me 'Freddie' conveying how much she __didn't__ appreciate the nickname everyone kept calling her. __"And maybe I do, ever think of that? No, betcha didn't. Just shows that I'm a better friend than you are!"__

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me, and stopped moving to lean against the trunk of a tree drawing patterns in the dirt with the toe of my boot. Dawn was Buffy's younger sister who was only slightly older than me, and we'd bonded during the time I had spent with her in Sunnydale and then HQ. I'd go so far as to call her my best-friend. Even though she wasn't a slayer, she had taught me just as much as Buffy and the others had.

"If you were the better friend, __you'd__ be here as my Watcher instead of Kevin!" I couldn't quite keep the whining tone out of my voice.

" _ _Yeah, cos there's__ nothing __weird about two sixteen year old girls living together without any form of adult supervision,"__ Dawn replied. __"Besides, what's wrong with Kevin? Aside from being__ very __British, of course, he's also kinda a babe. You should be used to it by now, anyway."__

"Firstly, ew," I told her, the idea of Kevin being sexually attractive giving me a major case of the icks. "Nothing, I guess," I then admitted grudgingly. And she was right, I'd known Kevin since I was about 12 and the Watchers Council had first sent him to groom me as a Potential Slayer. "Though I think he's going to single-handedly be to blame for the Great Tea Shortage of 2011 – he drinks the stuff like it's water!"

Dawns responding giggle was loud enough that I had to hold the phone away from my ear until she calmed down.

Dawn Summers was without a doubt one of the most exuberant people I'd ever met. And despite the events of the past year of her life she had somehow managed to hold onto her child-like capacity for trust. Something she was trying to encourage me to do also.

" _ _Well...what about boys?"__ Dawn asked in a tone she probably thought was sly, but in reality came across as eager.

"Boys?" I deadpanned, though the smile on my face that she was thankfully unable to see betrayed my amusement. "I'm here to fulfill my Divine Calling and you're asking about boys?"

" _ _Yes!"__ She squealed back, forcing me to move the phone to the side once again until she calmed down. __"If I'm stuck at Hogwarts School For Girls for who knows how much longer, then I'm gonna live vicariously through you gosh-darnit!"__

"Well, be prepared to be vicariously disappointed," I told her with a self-deprecating snort. "The only boy I've run into so far thinks I'm some closet-goth with a cemetery kink."

I felt myself blushing as I recalled the incident four nights ago:

 _ _I was sitting atop a grave-stone – as per usual since I wasn't allowed to bring folding-chairs on patrol, apparently – kicking my feet out as I read a worn paper-back copy of__ Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

"Ah, Lizzie Bennet," _ _I said aloud.__ "You're a girl after my own heart."

"I-is s-someone there?" _ _A male voice stammered uncertainly into the dark.__

 _ _Startled, I found myself slipping backwards off of the grave-stone, my book and phone flying up into the air as I struggled to correct myself.__

 _ _The owner of the voice arrived just in time to find me scrunched behind the slab of marble with my feet in the air as my phone landed on my chest and the book on my head. Looking up from my position on the grass it was easy to tell – even upside down – that he was well on his way to becoming a looker once puberty was through with him. He was__ tall _ _and lanky still, but curly ash-blond hair and a jaw you could cut glass on would definitely give a girl the warm and tinglies some day soon.__

 _ _I tipped the book on my head as though it were a hat and grinned sheepishly up at him,__ "Uh, greetings from the ground?"

 _ _His expression of shock quickly melted into one of concern and he almost tripped over his feet in his haste to help me up. I bit back a laugh as I grasped his offered hand and awkwardly untangled myself, letting him pull me to my feet a moment later.__

"Thanks," __I said, rubbing the spot on my sternum where my phone had decided to pile-drive into me, at least I wouldn't have to worry about a cleavage-bruise thanks to my handy-dandy Slayer healing.__

"What – uh – what are you doing out here?" __He asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while shoving the other into his jeans pocket.__

"I could ask you the same question?" _ _I shot back, hoping to catch him off-guard and gain a little insight into what kind of excuse I could make up on the fly.__

"I work here," _ _He replied bemusedly, folding his arms across his chest.__

 _ _Well dammit. There goes that option.__

"I should probably ask you a different question...I was...uh..." __I chewed on my lip while frantically trying to come up with a reason that didn't make me seem like a complete weirdo. I glanced behind me at the grave-stone and blurted,__ "Visiting my grandfather!" __Sure – it seemed plausible even if it was nearing 9pm on a Thursday night.__

 _ _I beamed up at him – seriously, I reached his shoulder – proud of my totally believable explanation.__

"Cassandra Sinclair, died age 40, 2009," __the boy read off of the slab of stone behind me with his eyebrows raised questioningly.__

 _ _Laughing nervously I managed to not stumble over my words too badly,__ "Yeah! My-uh-family has a history of...teen pregnancy? And he-err-preferred to be called 'Cameron'..." _ _I looked at the expression on his face, baby-blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.__ "...and you're not buying any of this, are you?"

 _ _He shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in amusement,__ "Not one bit. Um, it was an interesting direction though?"

"Ah well, it was worth a shot," _ _I said in defeat as I bent down to shove my book and phone in my messenger-bag. Standing I threw my hands up dramatically,__ "You caught me! I like reading in grave-yards."

 _ _His eyes ran over me from head to toe, taking in my shaggy blonde lob, expertly made up blue eyes and lip-glossed lips, blue romper, denim jacket, and floral Keds with thigh-high socks. Yeah, I wouldn't really buy me as a death-fetishist either. Maybe all that was left was the truth? I mean, he would most definitely think I was one Iron Man short of The Avengers, but he'd probably leave me alone. Possibly. Hopefully. Even if he was kinda cute.__

"Okay," __I started, exhaling heavily.__ "Truth is...I'm hunting vampires."

 _ _He stared at me for a long nail-biting moment before bursting into laughter, the unexpected sound making me jump – though I'd deny it if anyone ever asked.__

"I'm Isaac," _ _He offered, grinning widely.__

"Fred," _ _I replied with a triumphant smile, aggressively fist-bumping and hip-thrusting on the inside. When in doubt – use the truth. Who was crazy enough to believe a flippant comment about vampire hunting?__

 _ _Answer: Nobody.__

"Fred?" _ _Isaac repeated, again taking in my decidedly__ not _ _tom-boy appearance.__

"Yup," _ _I answered, popping the 'p' and refusing to offer any explanation about my name whatsoever.__ "Well Isaac, it's been real swell, but I should get home. Who knows what roams the streets of Beacon Hills after dark?" _ _I teased.__

 _ _He managed to cover up his look of disappointment fairly impressively as he quipped,__ "Like vampires – right?"

"Exactly!" __I wiggled my fingers over my shoulder as I walked off, reminding myself to be more alert tomorrow night on patrol to avoid another awkward confrontation. And more poorly constructed lies. Honestly, a 40-year-old trans-gender grandfather – pathetic.__

Thank god I hadn't had Mr Pointy out. Or worse – Lord Stabbington III. Or even Chewy.

It was always hard to explain away a crossbow.

" _ _Is he a closet-goth with a cemetery-kink?"__ Dawn asked, obviously not in the mood let me avoid the subject. __"If he's cute enough – it could be worth it! Buffy once dated one of those. He was all into gloomy Edgar Allan Poe, death is inevitable, Emily Dickinson poetry-type stuff. And then she had to save him from being a Happy Meal on legs when he got his stalker on and followed them to the funeral home where some redneck Jesus-freak bumpy-face was lurking."__

"Has your sister ever had a normal relationship in her life?" I couldn't help but ask after I was finished chuckling.

" _ _Weeeeell, there was Riley I suppose...then again he went all Mega-Super-Soldier and got addicted to vamp-bites so maybe not,"__ Dawn mused. __"But anyway, you're not Buffy! Just cos you're both blonde midgets doesn't mean that you're doomed to follow in her relationship footsteps. You are so not doomed, you are like the complete opposite of doomed. Doomed is off hiding somewhere because you are so not it."__

"Dawn," I interrupted, "Stop saying 'doomed'. Seriously."

" _ _Doom, doom, doom, doomity doom!"__ She began singing in a high-pitched voice.

"Okay!" I all but shouted into the phone. "He was sorta, kinda, on the side of cute."

" _ _Name."__

"Isaac," Knowing what was coming next I added, "Super tall, blue eyes, curly blond hair, and erring on the side of skinny."

" _ _Did you get his blood type and Social Security Number too?"__

I went to reply when my phone started beeping at me. Pulling it away from my ear I made a noise of frustration when I saw Kevin trying to get ahold of me.

"I've gotta book," I told Dawn, not bothering to hide the cocktail of annoyance and disappointment in my voice. "The most British man to ever British beckons."

" _ _Maybe he needs you to pick up more Earl Grey on the way home?"__ She suggested with a laugh.

"Knowing my luck, that's probably it. I'll skype you later," I continued, ignoring the beeping in the background as my Watcher tried his hardest to get make contact. I could imagine him sitting there in his pin-striped suit sipping tea and muttering the same weird cuss words that Spike had used. It kinda made me want to draw it out and make him wait. It wasn't that I hated him – on the contrary, I'd come to view him as someone I knew I could count on. I was just being what every teenage girl could be when she felt that she had been cheated out of something – a bitch.

" _ _Looking forward to it! Watch yourself, Fred!"__

"You too. Miss your face!" I ended the call and switched to Kevin as he called back a second time.

"There better be a dead body!" I sang into the phone, barely hiding the irritation in my voice.

" _ _What about half of a dead body?"__

"Watcher say what?" I was stunned, that was most definitely not the response I'd been expecting for my smart remark.

" _ _Yep. The local authorities have located one half and are currently in the woods doing their very best to find the other half – while unfortunate its also exciting isn't it? The current theory is –"__

"– animal attack," I finished for him. "That doesn't sound overly vampy though – does it?"

" _ _Hemicorporectomy isn't common in vampire attacks, you're right. But that doesn't mean it couldn't still be supernatural in nature. If possible, get me a photo for research, yeah?"__

"Selfies with either heads or tails? Sure thing Q," I quipped.

" _ _Good luck, Bond,"__

I gasped, "Oh my Gods! Did you just make a joke? How much tea have you had today? Count backwards from 50 super quick."

" _ _No,"__ He replied with a chuckle. __"Stay safe, love."__

"You know me – if I were any safer I'd be hidden in a cave surrounded by bubble-wrap," I joked before ending the call, tucking the phone back in my leather jacket after flicking it firmly onto silent.

Okay, if I were feeling a little airy around my navel, where would I be?

Breaking into a brisk jog I started back towards the main entrance to the preserve, my plan being to listen-in on the cops and find out what they knew first. The preserve was far too large for me to be running around blind. And while slayers were able to function on a minimal amount of sleep, tomorrow was my first day at high-school since my first semester of Freshman year. I was wanting to be all about the good impressions – not being the girl that looked like an extra from The Walking Dead.

I was 99.9% sure it wasn't a vampire. They weren't really into dismemberment unless it was ritualistic, and even then they weren't afraid to leave a trail of blood-less bodies behind them. The smart ones tended to remove their victims teeth and light them on fire – not go all Jigsaw on them and ask if they wanted to play a game.

As caught up in my thoughts as I was, I didn't realise I wasn't alone until it smacked me in the face.

No, seriously, I plowed face-first into someones chest.

Long fingers curled around my arms to steady me a moment too late and I quickly found myself sprawled across a thin hard chest. Resting my chin on his sternum I looked up into wide dark eyes staring down at me in shock, his heart beating rapidly enough that I could feel the vibrations through his T-Shirt. Long lashes swept down as he blinked at me, completely frozen.

"I can see up your nose," I said stupidly before jolting into action as I felt him tense beneath me and his heart went into over-time. Oh sweet merciful Zeus, I was going to give him a heart-attack. A teenage boy was going to drop dead of a heart-attack because of me. "Oh my Gods, I'm so sorry!" I rapidly apologised as I scrambled to get off of him. Leaves crunched beneath my hands as I dug my fingers into the dirt on either side of him and propelled myself backwards like some strange acrobatic push-up. I stumbled once upright and spread my feet slightly to balance myself, breathing deep and noisily blowing my bangs out of my eyes.

As I straightened from wiping away the leaves and dirt clinging to my black stockings I found the boy I'd knocked over still prone on the forest floor staring up at me.

I hadn't hit him that hard, had I? It wasn't like I'd been sprinting at full Slayer speed. Unless...oh no, maybe he'd hit his head? Maybe he had a concussion? Maybe he was now paralyzed because I was the most unobservant Slayer to ever observe?

Okay Fred. Chill. Stop saying maybe and just check if he's alright.

I moved towards his head, wide eyes following my every move, fluttering my hands around uselessly as I tentatively asked, "Are you okay? Like, can you move? I'm so sorry. Like, beyond sorry. I'm in a whole other realm of sorry right now."

"Stiles!" A voice called breathlessly from behind us and a beam of light swept haphazardly across us. "Next time you want to hunt for dead bodies, you're on your own!"

I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the voice and flashlight and then back down at the boy at my feet. Maintaining awkward eye-contact it wasn't until the voice behind me let out an exasperated "Dude!" that the boy seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in and started to flail about in what I assumed was an effort to get vertical.

There was the distinct sound of an inhaler being shaken before Flashlight-Guy took a puff and breathlessly demanded now that he was close enough to see his friend, "Bro, what the Hell? How much Adderall did you take to make it seem like a good idea to make the severe asthmatic sprint behind you __up a hill__?"

Once he had finished what I thought was an absolutely acceptable out-burst, he seemed to realise that his friend – Stiles? Weird name, but I couldn't really judge I guess – wasn't exactly alone. "Uh, hi?" His voice was thick with confusion as he glanced between the two of us.

It were as though his acknowledgment of my existence was an electric shock with the speed Stiles and I sprang apart. Both of us had matching expressions of guilt plastered over our faces, though most definitely for different reasons. I was just relieved to see he was walking and hoped that his twitchiness was caused by his apparent ADHD and not trauma-induced muscle-spasms.

I nervously tugged on the hem of my shorts, wondering if the two boys would notice if I slipped away. Probably not. Possibly. Maybe. More than likely, with the way they were __both__ now staring at me.

Okay Fred, act cool. They look your age, they probably go to Beacon Hills High too so don't wig out. Neither of them are hiding the bumpies, just two admittedly weird human boys running around the woods at night. Be a better liar than you were with Isaac. Time to work on your lie ability so it's not a liability – hah! Wait, they're still staring – focus!

"Hi," I said in a clear firm voice, smiling brightly at the confused boy before me who had finally managed to control his breathing. In the light cast by the flashlight I could make out shaggy dark hair that fell into dark eyes, straight white teeth flashed brightly against tanned skin and his jaw was slightly crooked. The way he hunched into his hoodie made him seem smaller than he was, but I could tell he would be almost a foot taller than me. There must be something in the water in this town that produced tall males, since Isaac had been __well__ over a foot taller than me and now that he was upright I could see that Stiles was probably only a bit taller than his friend. It was like the PTB wanted me to go to constant physio for neck pain caused by having to constantly look __up__.

"Hi," He repeated, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Uh Stiles?"

"Yeah buddy?" His reply sounded as though it were more an automatic response to the sound of his name than a coherent answer as he continued to stare at me, eyes now narrowed as though I were a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

"Who, uh, who's your friend?"

My eyebrows twitched at the word 'friend', but I made sure to keep my smile firmly in place. Because I was sweet and small and I didn't need them knowing I was capable of snapping them like a twig if I felt so inclined. No siree, nothing weird about this 5-foot-nothing slip of a girl hanging out in the woods at night. Actually, maybe I should be more suspicious of the two of them? What teenage boys hang out in the woods after dark the night before the first day of school? That being said, I'd spent the last 6 months surrounded by teenage girls, Xander, Andrew, and Giles – what do I know about teenage boys?

"M-my friend?" Stiles stammered, finally looking at his friend blankly before realisation dawned on his pale face – naturally pale, by the looks, as red blotches rose to the surface of his prominent cheekbones. He was switching between staring at me and his friend so rapidly that I was legitimately concerned he was gonna give himself whiplash. "Uh, yes! My-my-my...friend? Um-uh-yup. Scott, this is...?" He trailed off, staring at me expectantly with his hands still raised from where they'd been waving around erratically.

Wow. I thought I could ramble.

"Fred," I supplied helpfully, wiggling my fingers in Scotts direction.

"Yes!" Stiles all but shouted. "This is Fred! Wait – Fred?" He had stopped nodding his head and was now staring at me with his eyebrows raised questioningly. He was so expressive it was exhausting just watching him.

"Yes – Fred."

"Just Fred?"

"Just Fred." I confirmed with a bob of my head, Scott eyeing the whole exchanged bemusedly from the corner of my eye.

"...short for?" He prodded.

"None of your business," I replied lightly with a quirk of my lips, folding my arms beneath my breasts.

What was it with the boys of Beacon Hills and my name? It wasn't that weird. It didn't have anything on 'Stiles', that was for sure. I bet the 'Billies' and 'Sams' of the world didn't undergo this level of scrutiny whenever they introduced themselves.

"Nice to meet you, Fred," Scott smiled genuinely at me before shooting Stiles a look I roughly translated as 'what the fuck bro?'.

"What are you doing out here, Fred?" Stiles asked me suspiciously, his stupor finally having passed, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Late-night jogging," I offered with a nonchalant shrug. There! That's a believable lie if I'd ever heard one.

"Really?" Stiles asked as his eyes traveled up and down my body in a way that was less sexual and more skeptical. They paid particular attention to my black leather jacket, knee-high hunting boots, and mini-shorts.

I really needed to start dressing to match my lies.

"Really," I repeated. Why did every conversation with this kid feel like an interrogation? I wouldn't be surprised if his next move was to grab the flashlight off Scott and start shining it in my face. "I was jogging, remember? When I crashed into you? We landed, just over there?" I spoke slowly as I gestured to the disturbed ground next to us and pointedly eyed the dead leaves on his jacket. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"Don't you have school tomorrow?" He asked, ignoring my comment about his mental-state.

"Don't the two of you?" I shot back.

I was 5 minutes away from saying 'vampire hunting' and walking off. I didn't have time for this, there was half a dead body to find and knowing my luck the cops had probably already uncovered it. I was a slayer, Goddammit. Why did I need to justify myself to a nosey sixteen-year-old?

I heard the dogs and voices before the two of them. Seemed the cops had come to me. Handy.

I knew the moment the other two heard them because Scotts eyes went wide and he hurried to turn off the flashlight.

"Hide!" Stiles hissed, all annoyance with me gone as the search party got closer to where we were standing. "If they find us my dad will __kill__ me!"

"Is someone afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" I teased him, smirking at the way he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in irritation. I felt a hand curl around my wrist and spun around with my other hand raised before relaxing once I saw Scotts brown eyes staring down at me. I allowed him to tug me back down the hill he'd just finished climbing up moments before and didn't fight him when he pulled me down beside him behind a tree trunk. Gently pulling my arm from his grasp I made a soft sound of frustration as I felt a drop of rain land on my cheek and slide down off of my chin. Raising my hands I pulled the large hood of my thin red knit top over my head and huddled into my jacket, seeing Scott do the same next to me.

"Where's Stiles?" I whispered to him as loudly as I dared to, hoping he heard me.

Scott opened his mouth to answer when a dog barked loudly closer than we were comfortable with and a mans voice shouted out, "Stay right there!"

We stared at each other wide-eyed and frozen huddling closer in an attempt to make ourselves feel smaller. I didn't need to be caught by the police. I didn't need to give them a reason to try and find anything out about my past and I certainly didn't need that sort of reputation when I was going to be stuck in this town for however long. Buffy hadn't actually given me a specific end-date when I'd been shipped off to Beacon Hills.

"Hang on, hang on!" A different voice called out, this one filled with annoyance and resignation. "This little delinquent belongs to me."

Ah, so Stiles had been caught. By his father, no less. Or at least, I assumed it was his father based on the whole 'belonging' comment. I raised my eyebrows questioningly at Scott and he nodded with a pained expression on his face. Alright, the owner of the 'I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed' voice was Stiles' father, and I'm guessing we definitely didn't want him to catch us too.

"Dad, how're you doing?" Stiles asked with forced casualness.

"You, uh, listen in to all of my phonecalls?" Daddy Stiles asked wearily.

"No!" Stiles protested then after a pause admitted, "Not the boring ones."

"And where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Who? Scott?" Stiles spluttered. "Scott's home. Said he-he wanted to get a good nights sleep before school tomorrow. It's just me. In the woods. Alone."

I thought I had to work on my lie ability. Maybe Stiles and I could take lessons together at some sort of discount price?

"Scott, you out there?" Daddy Stiles called out, not dumb enough to believe his sons weak story.

Scott stiffened next to me with his eyes tightly closed and his hands fisted in his hoodie pockets. I placed a hand on his knee comfortingly, I had a feeling that Stiles' lie about him being at home was actually what he had been planning to do tonight until his friend had dragged him out for whatever reason. Well, judging by Daddy Stiles being a cop and Stiles listening into his phone-calls, it was very likely the two of them were out here for the same reason I was. Was this town that boring that it was more exciting than weird and/or scary to go hunting in the woods at night for half a corpse? What the Hell were they teaching these kids in school? Certainly not self-preservation.

"Scott!" After a minute of silence Daddy Stiles let out a disappointed sigh. "Well young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car and you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called 'invasion of privacy'."

At the pained noises that Stiles was making I chanced a look over my shoulder and bit my lip to stop from laughing as I saw his father marching him away by the back of his neck like a disobedient dog. Once they were far enough away I nudged Scott with my shoulder and stood up, brushing the wet mulch from the seat of my shorts.

"Was he your ride home" I asked him as we half slid-half walked down the hill.

"Yeah," He replied irritably before looking around him in an attempt to remember which direction led out of the woods and not further in.

"Exit's this way," I said with a smile and jabbed my thumb over my shoulder to indicate what direction I meant. "Coming?"

My priority was getting Scott safely out of the Preserve on the off-chance something big, bad, and supernatural was running around ripping people in half. I'd just have to double-back and hope that it took a while for them to find the body.

After walking in silence for a few minutes Scott asked, "I haven't seen you around before, are you new to town?"

"Yup," I told him. "My uncle and I moved here about a week ago now."

"Oh cool. Where did you move from?"

I paused, not too sure what to tell him. What had Kevin said our back-story was? He was my uncle and only living family – which uncomfortably enough wasn't far off the truth – and we had just gotten back from Scotland where I'd been on...exchange! I couldn't recall if I was allowed to mention San Francisco or Sunnydale at all though. Safer just to avoid the two of them until I had a chance to refresh with Kevin tonight before school tomorrow.

"Scotland," I smiled up at him. "I've been there on an exchange program for the past 3 months. Afterwards we felt like a fresh start and Beacon Hills seems to be it."

"Scotland? That's cool," He smiled back down at me, his breathing beginning to get a little labored. "What year are you?"

"Sophomore. You?"

He nodded, fishing around in his pocket for his inhaler. "Same. Let me or Stiles know if you have any trouble getting around, it's the least we can do for almost getting you caught by the cops in the middle of your...jog."

I laughed before stopping abruptly and tilting my head as the woods seemed to go unnaturally quiet except for the soft pitter-patter of rainfall. A creaking came from above us and I froze, scanning the surroundings while unconsciously dropping into a fighting stance.

"Uh, Fred?" Scott's voice was unsure and when I faced him it was easy to tell he was a little bit spooked. "You alright?"

"Fine," I chirped up at him with a smile. "Just thought I heard something." I grabbed his wrist and forced him to start walking faster, not liking the silence suddenly engulfing us. "Come on, we're almost there."

"That's-uh-quite a grip you've got there," He panted behind me. "Think we could slow down a second?"

I let him go with a start, not realizing that I had been expending a little slayer strength and speed. "Sorry," I apologized. "I'm just a little wigged out I guess."

"I hear you," He agreed before wheezing. Shaking up his inhaler he brought it to his lips and took a puff.

That was when the ground started shaking.

The sounds of a dozen hooves hitting the forest-floor was thunderous and seemed to echo from everywhere. When the first deer was within sight I tackled Scott to the ground and lay half over him, tucking my face into the side of his neck and hunching my shoulders, my arms thrown over his face. If I managed to get clipped in the back of the head, I'd eventually be fine. Maybe. I think. I wasn't quite clear when it came to head injuries. But I was definitely certain that Scott wouldn't even have the possibility of being okay that I had with slayer healing.

Once the last of the deer had run off I pushed myself up and off of Scott, rising to my feet in one fluid motion. "You okay?" I asked as I bent at the waist with a hand thrust out towards him.

He nodded affirmatively, eyes wide, and grasped my hand allowing me to tug him to his feet. He let out a breath of surprise at how hard I pulled but didn't comment on it, instead frantically patting his pockets and saying, "My inhalers gone!"

Grabbing the flashlight from where he'd dropped it I tried turning it on only for it to flicker weakly before going out. "Great," I sighed. "Can you last without it until you get home?"

"Probably," He replied, phone already out and using it as a make-shift flashlight as he combed the dead leaves around us. "But it cost like, eighty dollars, and mom will kill me if I've lost it. We can't really afford another one yet."

"Okay, okay," I raised my hands and cut him off before he could work himself up anymore. "You look over there, I'll look over here, and we'll meet in the middle."

"Thanks," He nodded at me before continuing to shuffle around on the ground.

Pulling my phone out I used it as a make-shift flashlight as well, sweeping the small glow of light across the ground in front of me on the look-out for the small piece of white plastic. We couldn't stay long. Something had spooked those deer and I didn't want Scott around to find out just what it'd been. Raising my gaze I gave the immediate area around us a cautionary sweep, but found only trees and shadows. When Scott yelped behind me I spun around just in time to see him stumble and trip head over ass down a hill.

"Scott!" I called as I rushed over to what had spooked him, pulling up short when the light of my phone glinted off the wide unseeing eyes of a corpse.

Scott had found the other half of the body alright. It was a girl, naked with long brown hair and chalky skin covered in bruises, bites, and claw-marks. Glancing at where Scott had fallen I quickly took a picture for Kevin, hoping that the flash on my phone was good enough, before leaping over the dead girl and sliding down the hill after him.

A low growl reached my ears before I'd reached the bottom and all the hair on my body seemed to stand on end.

"Scott, run!" I shouted frantically as I ran towards where the boy was standing frozen while a hulking mass of shadows stalked towards him.

I got there just as the creature leapt on top of him.

Not slowing my momentum I ran head-long into it, arms going around its sides in what could be mistaken for a hug as I tackled it and forced it off of Scott, the creature and I tumbling to the ground on his other side. The force of our landing threw us apart and I rolled to my feet between Scott and the creature. Red eyes glowed at me across the darkness as it shifted hulking shoulders beneath a thick layer of coarse fur. Large curved fangs glinted from beneath curled back lips, thick ropes of saliva dangling from their tips, and long talons dug into the soft earth beneath it. It was a werewolf. Boring Beacon Hills had a Gods-damned werewolf. And all I had was Mr Pointy and an asthmatic teenage boy.

"Scott," My voice was low as I slowly backed towards where the boy was standing behind me, refusing to break eye-contact with the wolf.

"Run?" He wheezed behind me.

"Run."

I heard him take off behind me and the wolfs head twitched toward the direction he went though it didn't break eye-contact. It was smart at least, it knew that I was a potential threat. Of course, a lucid werewolf would be even harder to defeat than one lost to the blood-lust. I couldn't understand how it could be fully shifted to begin with, the full moon wasn't until Friday. By everything we'd been told about werewolves at Basic Training they only shifted for the full moon and two days leading up to it.

Something was very wrong.

Once I thought Scott had been given enough of a head start I turned and sprinted in the direction he had gone. I had expected the wolf to be hot on my heels, but for some reason it remained where it was. While I knew that I should be thankful that I wasn't having to go toe-to-toe with a werewolf, I couldn't help but feel that the reason it wasn't giving chase was because it had already gotten what it had wanted.

I needed to get to Scott.

I broke through the tree-line just a Scott narrowly avoided being hit by a car. The red SUV swerved around him, tires sliding on the wet blacktop, before continuing along and not even stopping to see if he was alright. Asshats.

"Scott!" I called, rushing to his side. He stood in the middle of the road still, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead as he breathed in short heaving gasps. "Scott, are you okay?"

I stood in front of him, hands curling around his biceps, blinking up through the raindrops clinging to my eyelashes. My mascara was probably a mess. Stop it, Fred. You have bigger concerns than your makeup. He met my eyes and nodded shakily, "Yeah-yeah I think I am?" He said through chattering teeth. "Are you okay?"

I grinned up at him, my tongue caught between my teeth, as I drew upon my well of fake confidence. "I'm five-by-five," I told him, using an expression Faith – the __other__ capital 'S' slayer had frequently said. "Apart from being wet, cold, and scared out of my mind."

Letting out a stuttering laugh Scott let me lead him to the side of the road, "I feel you."

Linking my arm through his – more for his comfort than mine – I said, "Come on – I'll walk you home."

* * *

 ** **A/N:****

 ** **Hey, I've had this idea banging around my head for awhile after finding a severely lacking amount of Buffy/Teen Wolf fanfiction. Apparently if I want this idea out there, I need to do it myself haha****

 ** **Some quick notes -****

 ** **I've done a little shuffling around with the time-lines so that the end of Season 7 of Buffy is only 2 months behind the start of Teen Wolf Season 1. I'm also only using the bit about the training grounds in Scotland as canon in this story - so all the bits in the comics about recruiting on TV, and the general public knowing about the existence of vampires and slayers etc never happened in my story. Some characters from Buffy will be mentioned, but at this stage I don't think I'll actually introduce them to the story proper. Fred will be getting her own story arc, not just tagging along with Scott and Co. also, but it's not going to stray too far from the Teen Wolf Universe. In the next chapter you'll see how Fred and her Watcher are confused about how different the Alpha is compared to the werewolves the Scoobies have encountered ie. Oz, Veruca. But that doesn't mean I'll be changing Teen Wolf werewolf lore - the slayer and her watcher are just going to have to adapt to new mythology haha****

 ** **I've put that this is a OCXStiles fic, and it will be...eventually. It will be extremely slow-burn. Just so there's no disappointment when they're not hooking up by chapter 3. I plan on doing this rewrite for the long haul, so don't lose faith if it doesn't happen immediately. I want to concentrate more on building connections and friendships. And if the end of this chapter seemed a bit FredXScott - it wasn't! Scott's just a reeeeally nice guy.****

 ** **Sorry, this AN has been a novel in itself. Please read and review.****

 ** **\- Susie Samurai****


	2. Teeth And Claws Might Make Me Sore

****Chapter Two – Teeth And Claws Might Make Me Sore, But Words Will Hurt Forever****

 _ _She sees them walking in a straight line,__

 _ _That's not really her style,__

 _ _They all got the same heart-beat,__

 _ _But hers is falling behind.__

 _ _Cool Kids/Echosmith__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

"Kevin!" I shouted as I banged through the front door half-an-hour later after making sure Scott was safe at home. "We've got a major problem, with a capital Pain In My Ass!"

Kevin ran out of the living room to meet me in the entry-way, as predicted he was in his navy suit with his black hair tousled from running his hands through it while reading and his dark brows standing out as he paled at the sight of me dripping wet on the carpet. "What happened, love? Are you hurt?" He asked looking at me with large dark-brown eyes behind his reading glasses.

"I'm fine," I confirmed as I peeled off my jacket and hung it on the coat-rack by the door and then toed off my boots. "But Scott certainly isn't."

"Scott?" Kevin's brow furrowed in confusion as he trailed behind me on my way to the kitchen.

"Yup," I popped the 'p', pouring a bowl of cereal and propping myself up on the counter to eat it. "And it's all my fault. Or your fault, I suppose," I shot him a look from beneath my lashes as I shoveled another spoonful of Lucky Charms into my mouth.

"My fault?" He asked incredulously.

"Yup," I brandished my spoon at him. "Since he got bitten by a freaking werewolf while I was taking a photo of your dead girl." I threw my phone at him, glaring when he fumbled in catching it and almost dropped it on the floor. "There's your research, Q. Now, what we need to figure out is why there's a werewolf running around Beacon Hills with the ability to shift on days that aren't the full moon."

"What?" Kevin boggled at me, eyes round as he looked up from the picture on my phone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I just went up against an honest to Gods werewolf a week before the full moon. You know, with the teeth, and the claws, and the glowing red eyes of hate?" I waved my spoon around flippantly.

"But-but that's impossible," Kevin said, looking down at the picture again. "What did it look like?"

"Like a big black wolf. With glowing red eyes," I stared at him. "Seriously, it was the size of an SUV. I tackled it full-force and only moved it, like, eight feet. Plus – it was lucid."

"Lucid?" He squawked at me, eyebrows jumping up towards his hairline. "How'd you know it was lucid?"

"We had a good old fashioned conversation, I reminded him that animal fur was so last season," I narrowed my eyes at Kevin before bursting out, "Because I'm not injured, that's why! It let us go! What kind of blood-lust frenzied wolf-man lets the pretty blonde girl go?" I shuddered, "And the way it looked at me...it was intelligent."

"And this...Scott?" Kevin inquired after a long moment.

"I think he got bit," I blinked across the kitchen at my Watcher. "He was really nice, even though I was the strange girl who ran into his friend in the woods in the middle of the night. He made sure I was okay and helped me hide from the cops so I wouldn't get in trouble. And then I went and got him attacked by a werewolf!"

My sudden wailing made Kevin appear very uncomfortable – I guess Watcher training didn't cover how to comfort upset teenage girls. And I was! Upset that is. I knew that Scott had told me that he was okay, but I had noticed the way he favored his side and kept tugging his hoodie down unnecessarily. The kid had gotten bitten. And it was all. My. Fault.

"I'm a terrible slayer," I informed Kevin matter-of-factly, waving my spoon around to emphasise my words. "I"m not even here a week and some kid gets bit by a werewolf. All because I only had Mr Pointy on me instead of Lord Stabbington! Or even Chewy! Up against a werewolf all Mr Pointy would've been good for is picking his teeth after he was finished eating me and my friend!"

"Scott's your friend?" Kevin asked confusedly. "Didn't you only meet him tonight?"

"Well, he's a prospective friend!" I corrected. "A possible friend. A friendly acquaintance with the ability to become more. Except he's __not__ anymore because I got him turned into a freaking werewolf!"

The room went quiet as Kevin and I both stared at the spoon quivering next to his head where I'd accidentally embedded it into the kitchen wall.

"Um...I'll-uh-fix that," I said with a wince.

Kevin approached me with a sympathetic look on his face, "Love, this isn't your fault alright? So stop blaming yourself. All we can do now is keep an eye on the boy and see if he turns. So he may still be a prospective friend, eh?"

"They either turn or the die," My voice was soft as I watched the tentative grin on his face soften. I was completely conflicted. I was a slayer, he was a werewolf. If he hurt anyone I'd be forced to deal with him, regardless of the fact that he was a nice guy. Wasn't slaying something that was caused by an infection like Lycanthropy a little bit different than something caused by a demonic curse such as Vampirism? Was it even still slaying? Or was it erring on the side of murder?

Gods-damned shades of gray, I missed my childhood days where the world was more black and white.

"Then I best start researching this new type of werewolf so we can help him then, eh?" He told me, letting me know that we wouldn't be abandoning Scott to whatever plans the wolf in the preserve had for him. "You go clean yourself up and go to bed, first day of school tomorrow remember? I'll bring you up a cuppa if you like?"

I found myself smiling despite myself – of course his Britishness would try and solve the problem with tea. "That'd be nice," I told him as I slipped down off of the counter. "Thanks Kevin. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

He shrugged, skinny shoulders moving beneath his white Oxford, his suit jacket having been abandoned a while ago, "That's what Watchers are for, innit? Now stop dripping all over the floor, I've got enough to mop up as it is. Upstairs with you."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," I mock saluted before turning around and heading toward a hot shower and hopefully a dreamless sleep.

I'd been worried when I moved here that nobody would like me. That I'd have no friends and have to eat lunch in the library with Kevin. That I'd be completely behind in all my classes. Not that I'd accidentally get one of my classmates potentially turned into a werewolf.

I couldn't help but feel like the worst slayer ever.

* * *

 _ _I was at what appeared to be a high-school dance.__

 _ _There were different coloured balloons littering the floor of the gymnasium and streamers were strung up everywhere. A disco ball scattered colours across the darkened room like sunlight bouncing off of a crystal in a window. A soft lilting tune wrapped itself around me and I found myself swaying along to it, my hair brushing back and forward across my bare shoulders with the movement.__

 _ _The dance-floor was only occupied by two couples:  
Scott was slow-dancing with a pale brunette, both of them completely lost to the world as they stood as close as was socially acceptable with their noses brushing as they smiled softly at each other. The other couple was Stiles with his hands on the tiny waist of a gorgeous red-head that kept at least a foot of space between them at all times as he stared down at her blissfully.__

 _ _I looked down at myself to find I was dressed in poofy white dress that had a million layers of tulle and was completely impractical for fighting. But I could certainly appreciate how pretty it was.__

 _ _I became aware of someone sitting next to me from my vantage spot half-way up the bleachers. I turned to see high wide cheekbones and large green eyes beneath straight dark brows. His short black hair was tousled and his broad shoulders filled out the leather jacket he was wearing.__

 _ _"You can't save everyone," His voice was a low rumble and his face was sympathetic as he gazed down at me.__

 _ _"Of course__ _ _I can," I stubbornly told him, not appreciating that he was implying that I wasn't strong enough. Even if he was beautiful – he was wrong. I had to be strong enough. I couldn't lose anyone else. I couldn't fail again.__

 _ _"No, you can't."__

 _ _Looking to my other side I found another boy sitting next to me, his expression soft even though his features were sharp and chiseled by Michelangelo himself, sad blue eyes meeting mine.__

 _ _I stood, spinning around to pin the two of them with a glare that I thought spoke for itself. "I'm the hero. That's what heroes do – we save everyone," Even as I said the words, I realized how naive they were. What was it? The heroes are always stalwart and true, the villains are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.__

 _ _It was a pretty lie.__

 _ _I turned back to the dance-floor where a large black shadow was circling around the four oblivious teenagers, glowing red eyes staring right at me. A shudder ran through me and I felt something cold and heavy settle in the pit of my stomach.__

 _ _"You have a choice ahead of you," The dark haired man told me.__

 _ _"But will you be able to make the right decision when the time comes?" The blue eyed boy asked.__

 _ _"Chose correctly and everyone lives."__

 _ _"But if she tries to save all of them, everyone will die."__

 _ _While I was distracted, the wolf had stopped circling the teenagers on the dance-floor and had instead started to silently pad up the bleachers towards me. I looked down at myself, dark red was blooming across my dress like a flower, as I felt a blinding flash of white-hot heat engulf my midsection.__

 _ _With a snarl the wolf leapt at my throat.__

* * *

I awoke with a new-found hatred for prophetic dreams.

Rolling over I grabbed the journal out of my bedside-table and a pen, a glance at the clock letting me know that at least I'd only woken up 20 minutes before my alarm was set to go off anyway. Scooting back I propped myself up against my pillows and leaned the leather-bound book against my knees. Finding a clear page I started writing down everything I remembered from my dream. And then copied it all out again for Kevin.

Once finished, I dropped the journal back on the bedside-table before slowly dragging myself out of bed. First day at a new school, may as well take my time getting ready.

When I made my way downstairs 45 minutes later I found Kevin sitting at the kitchen counter with an ancient-looking book spread out in front of him and a cup of tea in his hand. Next to him he had already placed a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice for me. Dropping my messenger-bag onto the floor I hopped up onto the stool and took a sip of juice.

"Thanks," I told him.

"Don't worry about it, love," He shrugged nonchalantly as though it were no big deal. "Did you sleep well?"

Groaning I placed the piece of paper I'd pulled from my journal on top of his open book. "About as well as anyone plagued by confusing snippets of the future."

"Oh, you had a prophetic dream?" He perked up, snatching the piece of paper and rapidly reading what I'd written. Once done he looked at me over his glasses, "So it seems that eventually you're going to have to make a difficult choice. One that involves a few select people, eh?"

"Looks like it," I grumpily replied around a mouthful of cereal.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much just yet," He said cheerily in an attempt to lure me out of my bad mood. "On the plus side I think I managed to find some information about the werewolf you encountered last night."

"You did?"

"Yep," He said with the manic excitement that seemed to take over him whenever he learned anything new. "It seems to be part of a sub-species of the classic werewolf we've encountered before, more of a shape-shifter where they are still some-what coherent during the full-moon and have the ability to shift at will. The one that you encountered is what I'm fairly certain is known as an Alpha, due to the colour of it's eyes. Alpha's have red eyes, while their Betas have gold."

"Well, that's just beautiful," I quipped. "So I need to go around and stare deeply into the eyes of every person in this town until someone flashes a bit of crimson goodness my way?"

Kevin coughed, "Uh, not quite. To be perfectly honest, the best way to find out if someone is a werewolf is to use wolfsbane. I'll have an amulet made up for you as soon as possible."

"Wolfsbane?"

"Yes. It triggers quite a sever allergic reaction in these shifters, as well as being quite lethal in concentrated doses. Think of it as werewolf holy water and crucifixes."

"Ah yes, the old slayer bread and butter," I nodded sagely as my fingers automatically went to the ornate silver cross resting against my chest. A goodbye gift from Dawn, she said every slayer needed one in case someone with a case of the bumpies got particularly amorous. She said it had belonged to Buffy, once upon a time.

"I'm assuming that the Alpha bit Scott because it's wanting to build up a pack," Kevin said as he finished his tea and started making moves towards heading to the school. "Apparently they're at their strongest when in a pack. And Betas are very loyal towards their Alpha."

Stacking my breakfast dishes in the dishwasher I hitched my messenger-bag onto my shoulder and followed Kevin outside to his car. He had gotten a job at the high-school as a librarian – the exact same thing Giles had done with Buffy apparently. It was so he'd be more accessible if anything happened according to him, I think it was just because his inherent Britishness needed him to be around as many books as possible at all times. On the plus side at least, it meant I didn't have to carry all my weapons around with me constantly as well as school books since he could keep a stash with him in his office.

"Alright, remember someone from administration will fetch you and escort you to your first class," He told me. "Do you have your class schedule?"

"Right here!" I chirped, waving it towards his face. "Oh look! English first period – your favourite subject!"

"Actually," Kevin informed me with a grin, "My favourite subject at school was physics."

"Of course it was," I fake-groaned, smirking at him. "You are such a nerd."

"I'll remember that when you're asking for help with your homework."

Pulling up out front of the school, Kevin let me out at the front entrance before continuing around to the faculty car-park.

Standing on the sidewalk the campus looked like almost any high school in California. Large and made of red brick with white trim, a tidy quad scattered with dead leaves courtesy of the trees dotting the lawn and wooden benches, and groups of teenagers catching up after the summer. Throwing my shoulders back and tossing my hair I made my way up the front walk, ignoring the curious glances and whispers that followed me, dropping myself down onto the small stone wall next to the front steps. I stared down at my black stocking-clad knees in deep thought about what Kevin had told me about the werewolf I'd encountered last night when a familiar voice cut through the chatter surrounding me and I looked up.

"That is freaking awesome!" Stiles spluttered excitedly, gesticulating enthusiastically. "I mean this has seriously got to be the best thing to happen to this town since..." He trailed off distractedly and my eyes widened as the red-headed girl from my dream strutted past me, her short plaid skirt swaying teasingly with every step. Make that the first big shock of the day. "...since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey Lydia!" He said enthusiastically to the girl who continued past him, a small smirk on her face being the only acknowledgment that she knew someone was talking to her. "You look like...you're gonna ignore me." The mixture of frustration and yearning in his voice stirred something dangerously close to pity in me as I watched him staring after Lydia.

Well, until he stomped his foot and turned to Scott and accusingly stated, "You're the cause of this, you know?"

"Uh huh?" Scott's response appeared to be indulgently well practiced.

"Dragging me down to your nerd-depths. I'm a nerd by association," I raised my eyebrows at his words, the ringing bell covering the laugh of disbelief that escaped between my lips. "I've been Scarlet-Nerded by you."

Okay, that one was actually pretty funny and this time both of them heard my laugh.

Both heads of dark hair swung in my direction from their position at the foot of the stairs, Scott smiling nervously at me and Stiles staring with his mouth gaping open. I grinned at the two from behind my dark wayfarers and wiggled my fingers in greeting, before tilting my head to the side and tapping my finger against my wrist in the universal gesture for running late. Scott raised his hand in greeting and then grabbed Stiles by the jacket and dragged him inside since the pale boy just continued to stare dumbly at me.

What a weirdo.

I understood Scott's nervousness though, he'd had the night to process what had occurred in the woods and was probably struggling to believe that I had tackled a giant wolf off of him. Stiles' reaction though was definitely strange. I decided to put it down to just general lack of interaction with the female gender.

My musings were interrupted when someone sat down next to me and I turned to see a pretty face dominated by large brown eyes and a shy smile, a delicate hand pushing her heavy fall of dark hair back behind one ear. "Um, hi?" She said in a soft voice, her nervousness making the statement a question.

And now we have Big Shock Number Two as I came face to face with the girl Scott had been dancing with in my dream.

"Hi," I replied with a smile, quickly hiding my surprise at recognizing her since we'd never actually met. "Take a seat, we can be new girls together. Maybe, with the two of us we could make one not-new girl."

Letting out a soft laugh she relaxed slightly, "Is it that obvious?"

I raised my eyebrows, "Well, the biggest give-away is that you're out here with me as opposed to being in there," I gestured towards the building beside us. "That, and you're projecting the nervousness I'm desperately trying to cover up with big sunglasses and not-so-funny quips."

This time her laugh was a little louder, a little stronger, "I didn't want to comment on the glasses, but the quips seem to be working just fine."

"Trust me," I leaned towards her conspiratorially. "Beneath this well made-up veneer of blonde hair and witty come-backs there is a trembling girl who's freaking out over the possibility of tripping over on the way to her desk or that she remembered everything but a pen."

The girls face suddenly went even paler and her pretty pink mouth formed an almost comical 'O', she began desperately rifling through the large purse on her lap. "Oh my God, I forgot a pen!" Her voice was thin with anxiety and I felt almost guilty as though I were the cause of it.

Pulling my messenger-bag into my lap I began rummaging through it's contents: Journal. Chewing-gum. School books. Hair brush. Stake. Back-Up – my butterfly knife. Phone. And... the sparkly pink pen with the pom-pom end that Dawn had given me as a joke with my dream journal. Of course that was the only pen that I had decided to pack this morning. Again, I found myself hating prophetic dreams and how one of the side-effects of them appeared to be absent-mindedness.

Gingerly holding the pen between my fingers I looked at her sympathetically. "You can borrow this if you like?" I offered. "I can grab one off of someone else, I'm sure."

Shaking her head so that her hair swayed around her shoulders she smiled gratefully at me, "No that's alright. I'll source my own – thanks though."

"I'm Fred, by the way," I told her, not blaming her one bit for turning down the pen. Gods, I was trying to do the same thing by pawning it off on her. "First day buddies?"

"Allison," She replied with a smile. "And definitely first day buddies."

"Hi there, I'm Mr Pointon," A jovial male voice said from behind me and I smirked as Allison jumped in shock at the unexpected sound. "I'm so sorry to have kept the two of you waiting. You must be Allison Argent," He addressed Allison first who had gracefully risen to her feet. Turning to me he continued, "And you are Wi-"

"Fred," I cut him off with a firm voice and a bright smile as I bounced to my feet. "Nice to meet you sir."

He seemed a bit perplexed about my interruption but powered on regardless, "Well, welcome to Beacon Hills – both of you. I'm sure you're both a bit nervous, but luckily you're both in the same first period class – if you'll just follow me?"

"Absolutely," Allison chirped and the both of us followed him into the school.

"So Allison," Mr Pointon began conversationally. "You were saying earlier that San Francisco wasn't where you grew up?"

"No, but we lived there for more than a year – which is unusual in my family," Allison admitted, casting a glance at me and I grinned up at the taller girl, hiding the wince that had gone through me at the mention of San Francisco.

"And you, Fred?" The older man addressed me now. "You spent the last semester on exchange in Scotland, didn't you? That must've been quite exciting for a Sophomore."

"That's right, sir," I told him with a nod. "It was very..." Educational on the slayage of supernatural creatures and stopping impending apocalypses – apocalypsi? "...Scottish." I settled on with a firm nod of my head and a flash of my teeth.

"Well, hopefully the two of you will settle into Beacon Hills smoothly," He said in a reassuring voice, a raised eyebrow his only indication that he'd found my answer about my exchange trip odd at all. That being said, I wasn't wrong. Scotland was very Scottish. "Here we are," He announced, throwing open a door to our right.

I felt my tummy get a little twisty and after sharing a glance with Allison I saw that I wasn't alone in my nervousness. Sure, give me a vampire and I'd beat him down all while insulting his fashion sense – but a class full of teenagers? That was a whole other kettle of fish, as Kevin would say. Teeth and claws might make me sore, but words can hurt forever.

I was ashamed to say that when I finally entered the room to find twenty students eyeballing me that I froze momentarily until Allison gave me a soft nudge with her shoulder and an anxious attempt at a reassuring smile. I was a Gods-damned slayer, and I would not be intimidated by a bunch judgmental adolescents – regardless of the fact that I was also a judgmental adolescent. Squaring my shoulders and tossing my hair I slipped off my sunglasses and placed them in my bag, my hand lingering on my hip as I jutted it casually to the side.

"Class, please welcome our new students – Allison Argent and..." He eyed me and thought better of saying my full name. "...Fred Ackerman. Please do your best to make them both feel welcome. Mr Neske, I leave them to you." Mr Pointon nodded amiably to the squat red-faced man by the board with glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose before taking his leave and closing the door behind him. Allison and I stared expectantly at the man in the maroon Oxford and beige sweater-vest and he indicated the back right corner of the room with a jerk of his head, "Girls, go take your seats." He said not-unkindly.

Sharing a glance, I allowed Allison to go first thinking that she needed the feeling of being able to control where she sat more than I did. Or at least, that was until I saw who the last two free seats were behind. One was behind Scott, and that seemed to be the one that Allison was making a beeline for, leaving me the seat that was diagonally behind hers and next to the window right at the back of the class and behind...Stiles.

The lanky boy with the dark-brown buzz-cut and mole-speckled face stared at me dumbly again, though this time his throat bobbed with a nervous gulp when his eyes ran down my length and lingered at the hem of my brown suede mini-skirt. Narrowing my eyes – I'd heard him pining over Lydia Martin not even 20 minutes ago and now he was checking me out. Were all teenage boys this fickle? - I purposely bumped his desk with my hip as I passed by, jolting the arm he was currently leaning against the desk as his hand cupped his jaw and causing him to slip and smack his chin into the desk. Smirking, I smothered my soft sniggering as I dropped into the chair behind him, grabbing out my pen and pretending not to notice as he turned around to glare at me, rubbing the red mark on his chin.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scott swivel around in his chair and offer a pen towards a blushing Allison with a shy smile and big puppy-dog eyes. She accepted it, ducking her head as he slowly spun back around to face the front of the class. I winked at her when she glanced my way and she scrunched her nose up with an embarrassed smile, shaking her hair forward to hide the delicate pink blush blooming against her cheeks.

* * *

My third big shock of the day was when the guy with the sad blue eyes from my dream had walked into my math class just before lunch. I'd been chatting with the cute boy on my left who had introduced himself as 'Danny' and I'd almost instantly identified as gay, a skill I'd mastered living in San Francisco. He had been in the middle of telling me that I should feel free to sit with him and his friends at lunch and that he'd walk me to my locker first to drop off some of my books since it was two down from his.

"Hey, Jackson," Danny had greeted the boy as he dropped into the seat in front of him.

"Danny," Jackson had returned, eyes on me as his lips quirked into an arrogant smirk. He was the sort of boy who was well aware of how attractive he was and wasn't afraid to hide it. The rolled up sleeves of his light plaid button-up strained against biceps he obviously worked very hard on and his dark blonde hair was styled straight out of a magazine. His blue eyes scanned me from top to bottom and I must have passed whatever test he was giving me because he asked Danny, "Who's your friend?"

"This is Fred," Danny introduced with a warm smile. "She's one of the new girls as well as this years locker-buddy. Fred, this is Jackson – my best friend."

"Hi," I waved my stupid pink pen in his direction, not missing the amused look in his eyes as the pom-pom wobbled back and forwards. "Ready for a fun-filled lesson of games and frivolity?"

"Fred __really__ doesn't like math," Danny explained to Jackson. "It was actually the first thing she said to me."

"No," I corrected him. "The first thing I said to you was 'is anyone sitting here'. Then I proceeded to wax poetic on my hatred of anything involving counting past the number ten because that's the amount of fingers I have. And that I hoped you were good with numbers because I have very keen eye-sight and a blurry moral compass."

Jackson let out a bark of laughter at me words. "I like her," He informed Danny while pointing a finger in my direction.

"Thank the Gods for that – now I can sleep easy tonight knowing that you approve of me." I drawled with a flick of my eyebrows.

"You just received the Jackson Whittemore seal of approval. Second only to the Lydia Martin seal of approval." Danny informed me with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips at the scowl Jacksons face had settled into at my flippant reply. But really, what did I care if this boy liked me or not? Why did his opinion matter? Short answer: it didn't.

I sighed dramatically, "And here I thought I'd flunked the written."

Both boys laughed – though Jackson seemed a bit forced about it – and Jackson said, "Wait til you meet Lydia."

I couldn't tell if that was a good thing, or a bad thing to be honest with everything I'd heard about Lydia Martin.

Entering the cafeteria with Danny and Jackson on either side of me ensured that I had 80% of the rooms populations attention. I saw Scott and Stiles sitting together at a table of the other side of the room, Scott's eyebrows scrunched in confusion at seeing me with the two boys while Stiles was once again staring at me dumb-founded with his mouth wide open. I raised a hand and waved at the two of them – well, Scott – my nose scrunching up for a split-second the only thing betraying how uncomfortable I was feeling with all the attention I was receiving. It was as we were approaching the table where Lydia was sitting with the rest of what I assumed were the 'Cool Kids' with our trays of food that I looked out the window and spotted Allison sitting at one of the benches outside alone.

"Uh, actually guys I'm gonna have to take a rain-check on lunch," I told the two boys who stared down at me incredulously. As though it were unheard of to pass up an opportunity to sit with them. All I could think of was Mean Girls references and I had to bite down to urge to laugh out loud at the image of Jackson dressed head to toe in pink. "Thanks for the invite – seriously, it was all kinds of the good. But it's just that I forgot I'd already made plans with someone else."

With a smile and wave goodbye I left the two boys staring behind me bemusedly as I headed outside towards Allison. And I didn't feel a hint of regret about choosing her over the cool kids, I'd said that we were first-day buddies and I was going to act like it.

I enjoyed my lunch with Allison, we talked about how our days were going so far with her teasing me when I said she'd better appreciate me sacrificing the possibility of becoming popular to keep her company. I learned that it was because of her dads job that they moved around so much, she was pretty vague about what exactly he did – just mentioning that it was 'security'. She told me about her last school in San Francisco and how her mom was a buyer for a boutique. In return I told her how I was living with my Uncle and that he was the school librarian and also obsessed with tea. I told her about Scotland – saying that I had been at an all-girls boarding school and replacing all of the slayer subjects with normal school subjects. I told her about Dawn and how I missed her, and she told me about her aunt Kate who was more like a sister and how much she missed her too.

I shared two other classes with Allison, Scott, and Stiles, those being Chemistry and Economics. The Econ teacher was like something out of a show on MTV. Very intense. Very high-strung. And more than a little inappropriate in the comments he made towards students. That being said, I found him absolutely hilarious. And the Chemistry teacher, Mr Harris, seemed to have it in for Stiles for some reason and I wondered if the older mans snide comments towards a student were even allowed I mean, sure the twitchy boy hadn't made the best first impression on me, but a nice guy like Scott wouldn't be best friends with him if the kid had zero redeeming qualities. He didn't seem like the kind of person that would follow just anyone out into the woods in the middle of the night to search for dead bodies.

At the end of the day I found myself next to Allison while she finished grabbing the things she needed for homework out of her locker. And then I found myself pointedly ignoring the puppy-dog eyes Scott was shooting her from across the hall, letting her have her moment as she shyly smiled over at him.

That's when Lydia Martin decided to give me a heart-attack.

"Your skirt – not bad."

I stared at the gorgeous red-head as she tilted her head to the side and pointed one perfectly manicured finger at me, her large green eyes calculating and her glossy full lips arranged into the perfect pout. I glanced down at the skirt in question before meeting her eyes again. "Gee, thanks?" I replied, my confusion turning the statement into a question as I tried not to quaver beneath her scrutinizing appraisal.

Get yourself together girl, you could crush her like a grape.

With a nod she turned to Allison, giving her the same once over I had just endured before seemingly being content with what she saw. "That jacket is absolutely killer," She informed Allison as she played with one of the perfect curls falling across her chest. "Where'd you get it?"

Allison stared at her, obviously lost for words, until her mouth caught up with her brain and she answered, "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco." She gripped the strap of her bag just a little bit tighter and I was glad to see I wasn't the only one intimidated by the intense girl in front of us.

"And you are my new best friend," Lydia informed her, pointing at her as her lips slowly spread into a smile.

Allison threw me a nervous look and I shrugged my shoulders helplessly – what was I supposed to do about it? Before I could even attempt to say anything, Jackson moved up behind Lydia and curled one arm around her tiny waist pulling her against him as they shared a deep kiss that made both Allison and I slightly uncomfortable to witness.

When they broke apart Jackson grinned down at me, "I see Lydia found you anyway. And this must be who you bailed on us for at lunch." He gave Allison a pointed look.

"Jackson, these are our new friends – Allison and Fred," Lydia informed him as she blinked up at him with ridiculously long lashes. I was a bit unnerved that she knew our names. "Allison's from San Francisco, and Fred just got back from Scotland." She added when Jackson just grinned down at us. Now I was really unnerved – the girl had done her research.

"I already know, Lyd," He told her with an indulgent smile. "Fred's in my math class with Danny."

"So!" Lydia stated, ignoring her boyfriend. "This weekend, there's a party!"

"A party?" Allison's voice had taken on that thin anxious tone it had had this morning when she realised she'd forgotten a pen.

"It's Friday night," Jackson added. "You both should come."

"Uh... I-uh-I can't," Allison shook her head and avoided eye-contact with everyone as she shuffled in her boots. "It's Family Night this Friday. Thanks for asking."

I shot a look at her, knowing that Family Night was complete and utter bullshit. This girl was one of the worst liars I'd ever seen – and that was including myself. And she'd also left me with no choice but to at least make an appearance at this party, since I could tell from the determined look in Lydia's eyes that both of us weren't allowed to decline. One exception could be made, but not two.

"Well, you need to at least," Jackson addressed me, proving my assumption correct. "Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Allison asked with an interested look on her face.

"I love football," I said at the same time, perking up. I used to sit on my dads lap while he'd watch the games on TV when I was younger, both of us taking bets on who would win the Superbowl.

Jackson scowled at the two of us, "Football's a joke in Beacon," He scoffed. "The sport here's lacrosse. We've won the championship for the last three years."

Really? Lacrosse? Lacrosse wasn't the joke? I felt as though lacrosse should be the joke and kept waiting for a punchline that never came.

"Because of a certain team captain," Lydia simpered as she ran her fingers through his short hair.

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes," Jackson offered. "That is, if you don't have anywhere else to be...?"

"Well I was going to –" Lydia didn't allow Allison to finish her excuse this time as she linked her arms through either of ours.

"Perfect! You're both free and you can both keep me company on the stands," Lydia stated with a sweet smile and a voice that brooked no arguments.

Ten minutes later the three of us were huddled on the cold metal bleachers watching the boys of the Beacon Hills lacrosse team run around the field in their padding and maroon shirts. Turns out the Econ teacher was also the lacrosse coach, something that made his intensity a little more understandable.

I was surprised to find both Scott and Stiles down there, neither of them really striking me as the athletic types. While definitely having the energy, Stiles was a little too uncoordinated for a game where the aim was trying to get a small ball into a certain area. And Scott had proven himself last night to be severely asthmatic. That being said, kudos to both of them. It was always good to have goals – even blatantly unrealistic ones.

Watching Scott closely as he headed towards the goal with a defeated slump to his shoulders while the other boys lined up in front of him, I reminded myself that if he was turning his asthma would no longer be a problem. He'd be in the same boat as me – trying to hide just how different he was from everyone else. Having to constantly make a conscious effort to monitor how much strength or speed he was expending so nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Trying to be normal.

I shuddered.

"Are you cold?" Allison asked beside me, concerned. "I have some mittens in my bag if you want them?"

"I'm okay," I pulled my leather jacket around me a little tighter as I stared down at Scott. "Just a funny shiver down my spine."

"Someone must have walked over your grave," Lydia sang on my other side with a teasing smile.

"Who's he?" Allison leaned across me to ask Lydia with a tilt of her head towards the goal.

Scott was staring at the ball cradled in the pocket of his lacrosse stick positively dumbstruck. Not that I blamed him after the first ball had hit him clean in the face, his brain was probably a little rattled after the blow that had sent him sprawling onto the grass.

Over the sounds of Stiles' jubilant cheering as Scott continued to block every shot that came his way, I answered Allison in a tight voice, "That's Scott."

I was torn. I was positively ecstatic that Scott wasn't dead or dying. On the other hand though, I couldn't stop the wiggling fingers of guilt from digging around in my tummy knowing that I'd condemned the kid because I hadn't been good enough. With the full moon in four days I'd have to keep a very close eye on Scott – the kid and this town were now my responsibility. Especially with the way he had been looking at Allison today.

Scott managed to block an incredible shot made by Jackson – in a show of aggressive machismo so often demonstrated by males – and everyone cheered loudly as they got caught up in the excitement. Including Lydia who had sprung to her feet and was smirking down at her boyfriend who was looking personally insulted that an apparent nobody like Scott had bested him.

It was as though Scott had brought dishonor upon Jackson, his family, and his cow just by catching a ball. It was a complete and utter over-reaction in my opinion – wasn't the point of a strong team having strong players? As in, multiple? At the same time though, it kinda reminded me of Buffy and how she was used to being best but now had to adjust to other girls being just as strong, fast, and smart as she was. It can be a bit unnerving to discover that something you thought was special for you is also special for someone else.

Unless of course, it wasn't an extreme reaction to a bit of competition on the field and more towards Lydia's actions on the stands. I wouldn't appreciate my boyfriend cheering quite so enthusiastically for someone other than me either. If I ever got a boyfriend, that was. Gods, how would I explain the bruises and the late nights and the running off at the drop of a hat? It worried me that the only excuse I could even think of currently was 'Fight Club'.

Allison had remained seated next to me, smiling widely as Scott gazed up at her from the throng of teenage boys with a dazed look on his face.

Movement across the field caught my eye and I frowned at the black-clad male standing in the shadows of the trees bordering the lacrosse field. It looked as though I wasn't the only one keeping an eye on Scott.

Alright, Tall, Dark, and Mysterious – let's get a look at your eyes.

* * *

 ** **A/N:****

 ** **Thanks to the guest who was first to review (make an account so I can reply to you directly! lol) to answer the question of who I picture Fred as, I actually based her on Kristen Bell in Veronica Mars. Some of their personality is even pretty similar - both of them like to hide the fact that they're soft-hearted insecure marshmallows beneath a layer of snark and false bravado. Plus the internal monologue thing too.****

 ** **If anyone's interested in my posting schedule, I'm gonna try to go for weekly. I want to make sure I'm always a few chapters ahead in my writing, but if life starts to get in the way there may be the odd week where I don't have anything available yet.****

 ** **Feel free to let me know if you're actually enjoying what I'm writing - even if it's just what your favourite line is. Or your favourite thing about Fred. Or even what annoys you the most haha every bit helps towards improving my writing. Plus I just adore hearing little things like that - they make me smile. Or alternatively you can tell me what you didn't like, or what you thought could've been done better.****

 ** **Also thank you jessicafae for reviewing as well - I'm just as excited as you are! - and everyone who's followed and favourited so far. It honestly makes my day to recieve those notifications - you have no idea haha****

 ** **Happy reading!****

 ** **-Susie Samurai****


	3. We Need To Get You A Bell Or Something

****Chapter Three – We Need To Get You A Bell Or Something****

 _ _A man who's pure of heart,  
And says his prayers by night,  
May still become a wolf,  
When the autumn moon is bright,__

 _ _Howl/Florence + The Machine__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

After exchanging phone numbers with Lydia and Allison I finally found myself plunging into the woods where I'd seen the shadowed figure less than 20 minutes later. I'd had to endure Lydia's speculations about Scott while Allison struggled to appear aloof and uninterested in the kid.

High school politics could be more exhausting than fighting monsters.

My messenger-bag bumped against my hip in rhythm with my steps as I picked my way across the uneven forest-floor. Coming across a small creek I slowed to a stop, looking down at my black heeled ankle-boots and then back up at the ten-foot-wide stretch of cold water and moss-covered rocks. There was no way I was splashing my way across there – slayer healing did not entirely extend to illness and there was no way in Hades I was ending up with a cold my first week in school. Especially with a party to go to in four days that also coincided with a young werewolf's first full moon. That was going to be a barrel of laughs.

Hey, Scott? Can I chain you up and lock you in my basement? No? You're calling the police? What's a restraining order?

Yeah, I could see that conversation going __so__ smoothly.

Taking a running start I launched myself across the creek, landing a few feet away from the bank on the opposite side in a half-crouch. Shaking my hair out of my face an exhilarated laugh bubbled from between my lips. Times like this I loved being a slayer.

Breaking into a loping jog, I allowed the stretch and pull of my muscles alleviate some of the tension that had been building up over the course of the day. I could feel an intense training session on the horizon once I got home – maybe I could punch the guilt away?

A small part of me recognized that the guilt I was carrying as far as Scott was concerned was largely unwarranted. But another part of me – the part I desperately denied having any form of hero-complex – couldn't stop itself from pointing out all of the 'should'ves and could'ves' of the night before. Therefore I came to the conclusion that teen wolf Scott McCall was now my responsibility. It was up to me to be the Gandalf to his Frodo...or at the very least his Aragorn. I was pretty sure the role of Samwise Gamgee was already firmly taken by one Stiles Stilinski.

My internal Lord Of The Rings comparison was interrupted when I was roughly slammed up against a tree.

My attacker was pressed flush against me, his thigh between my legs and a leather-encased forearm firm across my clavicle kept me pinned in place. I raised my eyes to meet his, preferring to look up through my eyelashes than tilt my head back and expose my throat to what was possibly an Alpha werewolf. Capital 'A'.

Green eyes burned into mine from just over an inch away beneath furrowed dark brows. He was so close his breath ghosted across my face as he growled through clenched teeth, "What are you?"

I kept my face carefully blank as I recognized him from my dream – big shock number 4, hello!

Not the Alpha then, but the way he asked 'what' and not 'who' I was led me to believe he wasn't completely human either.

"Mildly uncomfortable," I quipped. "Do we need to have a discussion on personal space?"

Judging by the way his eyes narrowed I assumed it was safe to say he didn't appreciate my attempt at humor. Whatever big guy - I am hilarious.

"You smell human," He told me. "But I saw you at the creek – what you did wasn't possible."

So while I'd been following him, he'd been following me. I made myself dizzy just thinking about it. Did that mean that eventually we would've just gone in one big circle?

I needed to get him worked up enough to partially shift and flash his eyes at me, I couldn't rely on a dream to write him off as a threat completely. He did have a 16 year old girl pinned against a tree, after all. And not in a trashy romance novel kind of way either.

"I work out," I tried to shrug my shoulders nonchalantly but he was holding me pretty firm. "Evidently so do you."

"Why were you following me?" He demanded as he frustration began to show.

"Why were you following me?" I shot back.

His whole body tensed as he stared down at me, his jaw clicking as he growled low in his throat. The fiery green of his eyes was replaced by a brilliant iridescent blue and the nostrils on his thin-bladed nose flared delicately.

Oh, blue! It was very pretty. I'd have to ask Kevin what blue meant if red was Alpha and gold was Beta.

"Careful," My warning was delivered in a light almost friendly tone. Meanwhile I applied pressure to the knife in my hand so the tip of the blade pressed against his stomach hard enough for him to feel it. It would only take two inches and a jerk of my wrist for him to be in trouble.

"Hunter," He glared at me as he increased the pressure against my clavicle while I simultaneously matched him with Back-Up.

"Leo, actually," I informed him with a grin. "I also like long walks on the beach and Italian food, just for future reference."

As his eyes widened slightly in confusion, I brought my free hand up to grasp the wrist at my shoulder while drawing both my knees up and placing my feet flat against the tree behind me, using the thigh between my legs to stabilise the move. Launching myself forward I sent the off-guard wolf sprawling to the forest-floor with myself perched on top of him. I shifted my weight back on his hips and pressed my knees firmly into his sides, my feet hooked around his legs and one hand holding down his shoulder while the other had Back-Up flush with his jugular.

"Did your mom never teach you to not pin girls against trees without at least taking them out for dinner first?" I asked conversationally, enjoying myself a little too much if I were being honest – it'd been a while since I'd had a decent fight. A warm flush crawled over my body as I waited in anticipation over what his next move would be. His arms were free, though the pressure I was placing on the joint of his shoulder meant only one and a half of them were useful.

"What are you?" He asked again with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth.

"I'm Fred, a Vampire Slayer – and you are?" I sang down at him with a cheeky smile on my face, cocking my head to the side.

"Vampire Slayers don't exist – you're just a myth," He told me with a frown. This guy seemed to express himself purely through his eyebrows. It was kind of adorable. Plus his hair was perfect – movie-star worthy tousled bedhead. Call me weak for good hair and nice eyebrows.

"Well then, I guess you were... myth-taken!" I chortled, sobering once he continued to just thoughtfully glare at me. Bah, my puns were wasted on him – that was funny.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for the Alpha," I told him honestly, adding as a thought occurred to me, "Same as you – right?"

"Why are you looking for the Alpha?" His voice was thick with suspicion.

Seriously? Because I wanted to give him a freaking fruit-basket, why else? Congratulations on the start of your murderous rampage through Beacon Hills – try the lychee, it's delicious!

"He bit a friend of mine. Well, prospective friend. Maybe. I hope," I realized I was rambling and got back on track. "So, I've got some words for him. Mainly 'consent' and 'neuter'." I gave the werewolf beneath me a toothy grin at the word 'neuter', not missing the way he tensed up for a second.

Both of us were so distracted that we didn't notice the two teenage boys until they were almost on top of us. I was slightly disappointed in Mr Tall, Dark, and Broody for that, seeing as he was the one with uber-werewolf hearing. I had a heightened awareness, but it was really only effective when I was paying attention as it'd only been less than 5 months of me having it. I was lucky I had enough sense of mind to snap Back-Up closed and tuck the switch-blade up my jacket sleeve before turning my head to acknowledge a bewildered Scott who hesitantly asked, "Fred?"

"Hi Scott, "I smiled at him, as though there were nothing weird about me straddling an older guy in the middle of the woods. Just a standard Monday afternoon for Fred Ackerman. "Stiles," I added with a nod in the kids direction. For once he wasn't staring at me with his mouth open. Instead his lips were pursed and he appeared to be looking everywhere but at me, his cheeks shaded pink like he'd been running hard. Weird.

"Uh, what're you doing?" Scott powered through his confusion like a champ, glancing between myself and the frustrated wolf beneath me.

"What are you doing here?" The wolf beneath me barked out all of a sudden, obviously not appreciating having a pretty teenage girl in his lap. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry man we didn't know," Stiles managed to glance in my direction as he avoided directly answering the wolfs question, scratching the side of his jaw before shoving his fidgety hands into his pockets. His eyes were once again roaming the surroundings.

"We were just looking for...something but..." Scott started off brave but wavered under the harsh look Eyebrows was giving him – I wondered if he could teach me to make my eyebrows that intimidating. "..Forget it."

The body beneath mine shifted as the wolf dug into the front pocket of his jacket, flinging something small and plastic at Scott who caught it with an expression of surprise, opening his fingers to reveal his inhaler. I beamed down at the green-eyed man beneath me and patted his chest approvingly.

Good dog.

The two of them turned to go before Scott looked at me in concern, "You coming, Fred?"

Considering the situation from his point of view, I could see how it looked. And I could definitely imagine what kinds of wild stories were running through both boys minds at the moment. I could either go with the two of them and laugh the whole thing off as a misunderstanding, just another awkward encounter caused by my complete lack of observation when walking. Or I could stay, let the two of them leave without me, and risk being painted as the biggest ho-biscuit this side of the county line.

There wasn't even much of a choice. I needed information on the Alpha.

Ho-biscuit it was.

"See you at school tomorrow, boys," My voice was as reassuring as the smile I sent their way.

Please, please, leave so I can get this information shake-down over with and head home. I had homework to do – honest to Gods homework! I hadn't done homework in 4 months – as well as training. Plus, America's Next Top Model was on at 8 and it was makeover week. Makeover week was my __favourite__ week.

After an awkward moment where it seemed as though both Scott and Stiles were going to argue the point until I left with them, they eventually faced the futility of it and turned away.

"What's Fred doing with Derek Hale, dude?" I heard Stiles mutter. "He's, like, ten years older than us!"

"I don't know bro," Scott replied with one more glance over his shoulder. "But I've gotta get to work."

Once the sounds of their footsteps trailed off I turned back to Derek with a tongue-between-teeth grin, Back-Up sliding out of my jacket sleeve and finding it's place against his jugular again. "Well, __Derek__ , ready to talk about the Big Bad Wolf?"

"If you're looking to kill the Alpha, that isn't necessary," He said, referencing the knife, raising his eyebrows questioningly when I hesitated a moment longer than he thought I should.

"Try anything and I'll turn you into a nice wolfy throw-rug," I warned, twirling the knife around my fingers with a flourish before stashing it back in my jacket. "Maybe some leg-warmers."

"Noted," He replied, not looking nearly as intimidated as he should have been. "Can I get up now?"

"Oh," I looked down at him and then down at my lap where my skirt had rucked up to my hips revealing almost the entirety of my thighs. Thank the Gods for opaque stockings. At least now I knew why Stiles had avoided looking at me and was blushing like a school-girl.

Rising to my feet I bent down and offered Derek a hand, yanking him up with full slayer strength when he grudgingly wrapped his fingers around my forearm. I giggled as his momentum sent him flying towards me, stopping him just before he broke my nose against his chest. The guy was solid like a Renaissance statue.

Like __damn__.

"Come on," He grabbed my discarded messenger-bag and handed it to me. "We can talk at my place."

* * *

'His Place' ended up being a dilapidated half-burnt down over-grown ruin straight out of a horror movie.

I eyed the front porch steps warily as they creaked beneath his weight, "Just so you're aware, your place is giving me the total wiggins and that's coming from someone who spends about 40% of their time in cemeteries."

"You'll be fine," He told me impatiently, holding the front door open and looking one second away from tapping his foot.

"I better not need a tetanus shot on my way home," I muttered as I swept past him, questioning the need for a door to begin with. Seriously, the only people who would break into this place are children on dares and weirdo goth kids wanting to get their mack on somewhere spooky.

Eyeing up the set of stairs opposite the door – the only thing in the place that looked somewhat solid – I tapped on the second step up with my foot to test whether it could hold my weight. After determining that the probability of me falling through it was pretty low I bent forward to swipe my hand across the worn wood, wiping away the dust and dirt. Derek leaned against the post at the foot of the stairs after closing the door, staring at me with his eyebrows slightly raised and arms crossed over his broad chest.

I didn't care if he was 10 years older than me – Spike had been at least 100 and I had still sneaked peeks at him whenever he'd take off that leather duster he insisted on wearing like some punk-rock cowboy.

I repeat, __damn.__

With a sheepish smile I primly sat down on the space I'd cleared and looked up at Derek expectantly, "So, I'm guessing you and the Alpha aren't exactly...'simpatico'?" I completed the sentence with finger quotes.

An amused snort seemed to escape the wolf without his permission, as he seemed as surprised by it as I was. Shaking his head as though to clear any non-super-serious thoughts from it he replied, "Whoever it is killed my sister – when I find it, I'm going to kill it. And you'll help me?"

"Well, it's kinda my job if it's going on murderous rampages," I told him with a shrug. "But I want something in return for teaming up and becoming the Dynamic Duo."

"What?" He asked cautiously with a suspicious furrow of his brows.

"I want you to help Scott," I informed him firmly. "It's my fault he's now an actual puppy, and all I know about werewolves couldn't even be considered the Cliff-Notes version. But you," I pointed at him. "Are a real-live werewolf – so you are much more qualified to be the Obi Wan to his Luke. Whereas I plan on being more Leia without the awkward kiss. Or maybe Han with less skepticism." Taking in the stunned look on his face I added, "Of course, I'm sure you'll survive the first movie and won't be killed by the Alpha – who in this scenario is naturally Vader."

There we go, that would definitely reassure him. Unless his stunned look was because he hadn't seen Star Wars? Nope, the guy was 10 years older than me apparently – he had definitely seen Star Wars.

"So, what if I need to contact you?" Derek eventually asked after making us endure a silence that was almost bordering on awkward.

"Ah, that," I nodded. "A complicated series of smoke-signals, of course. Don't worry," I reassured him, "I'll teach them to you before I go."

Refusing to quaver beneath the glare he sent my way I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tossed it at him, holding out an expectant hand for his. "Or, you know," I shrugged. "Texting? It's what the kids do these days instead of going to dinosaur races."

"I know what texting is," Derek snarked at me. "Also iTunes and colour television."

"Good for you," I smiled sweetly at him, only for him to intensify his glare and stay silent. Wow, guess he was touchy about his age - Stiles had said he was about 10 years older than us, though that could have been an exaggeration.

"So," I changed the subject as we switched back to our own phones, "all you know about the Alpha is that they're big, bad, and they killed your sister?"

"Yes."

A thought occurred to me. "Was that girl they found in the woods your sister?" I phrased the question as delicately as I possibly could.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," I tilted my head to catch his eye and smiled sincerely at him. And I was - sincere, that is. There was nothing worse than losing a family member.

"So am I," Was his gruff reply as he broke eye-contact to instead glare down at the floor-boards as though they'd personally offended him. Hey, for all I knew, they had.

I grimaced, not wanting to ask this question so soon after bringing up his dead werewolf sister but not really having much choice, and asked, "So, how do we kill it? What hurts werewolves?"

Again, silence. I fidgeted as I waited for him to answer me, contemplating what colour to paint my nails tonight. Yellow? Nope. Lilac? Nah. Maybe a pastel blue?

"It's not like the movies," My head shot up at the sound of his voice and I gave him my full attention. "We're not allergic to silver, and we can shift on days other than the full-moon. During the full-moon the younger wolves can have trouble controlling their impulses, but the older you get the less the moon affects you." A pause. "The two things that are completely lethal are wolfsbane and fire."

"I think you'll find that fire's pretty lethal for everyone..." I interjected before trailing off under his unimpressed gaze. I stood and approached him, pulling out Back-Up and tapping it against his chest, "What if I were to slip this between your ribs at just the right angle to skewer your heart, would that kill you?"

"That would kill anyone, wouldn't it?" There was a tinge of sarcasm to his words as he stared down at me impassively, mocking my earlier comment. "You'd have to get close enough first."

Twirling away with a laugh I put the knife away, "Don't worry about that – I'm pretty handy with a sword."

* * *

Friday had arrived. The night of the full moon. The night of Lydia Martins birthday party that I was expected to attend – Jackson had reminded me once this week, Lydia twice, and Allison wouldn't stop texting me about outfit ideas since she'd agreed to go with Scott as his date. Also known as the night that werewolves and most other supernatural creatures liked to run amok and make a slayers job difficult.

And I was being dragged to the lacrosse pitch to witness the scrimmage that decided who would make first line.

Once again I was squeezed in between Lydia and Allison, as if the two of them were scared I'd run away if given half a chance. The fact that they were right didn't make it any less annoying. All I could do was hope that the reason the players wore all that padding was because lacrosse could be almost as brutal as football. Otherwise I just couldn't imagine myself getting into a game where it was just guys running around with really long sticks. At least hockey was played on ice, so that always made things interesting. Skating around with long-sticks was much more impressive in my opinion.

I admit, I was barely paying attention, and it was only Allison's gasp that dragged me from my thoughts as I focused on the game below me. Jackson had sent Scott sprawling to the ground, lifting his helmet up enough to shoot an arrogant grin down at the kid before walking off. Lydia made a faint sound of approval on my other side at Jackson's ruthless tactics, approval that grew as the two of them continued their growing rivalry on the field.

The highlight of the game though had to be when Scott did a flip over 3 players that would do Buffy Summers proud as he landed with perfect form and sent the ball in his lacrosse pocket soaring into the net, right between the stunned goalies parted legs. Allison had surged to her feet, cheering, and I found myself joining her as Coach Finstock announced that Scott had made first line. At least the kid had gotten one good thing out of being turned into a werewolf. Of course, that was just me trying to placate the guilt I felt about potentially ruining Scott's life by inadvertently getting him involved in the supernatural.

Once the game was finished and the first and second lines had been divided, I bid goodbye to Lydia and Allison and headed towards the library to meet Kevin. He was working late and wanted me to check in before I headed off to the party.

Pushing open the library doors I marched into large room, the afternoon sun casting a warm orange glow over the desks and shelves of books. I hopped up onto the counter, swinging my legs back and forwards as Kevin emerged from the stacks, pointedly ignoring the disapproving look he sent my way.

"Enjoy the game, eh?" Kevin asked as he dropped the pile of books he was carrying down on the counter next to me. He could be passive-aggressive all he liked – I wasn't moving.

I shrugged, "It's not football."

"Ain't that the truth," He agreed, though I had a feeling we weren't talking about the same sport.

"So Q, got any new-fangled gadgets for me to take on my mission tonight?" I asked cheekily.

"You're going to a party to keep an eye on a teenage werewolf. That's hardly international-espionage, love."

"Way to take all the fun out of it," I mock pouted at him.

"Besides, Derek said he would be there also," Kevin told me, before confirming, "Didn't he?"

"His exact words were 'I'll be around'," I relayed with a roll of my eyes. "That probably means he'll be creepily watching through a window or something. That guy is so socially awkward he makes Andrew seem smooth."

"Ah, speaking of socially-awkward," Kevin began. "Scott's friend was in earlier – the twitchy one?"

"Stiles?" I frowned. "Why?"

Passing a scrap of paper to me, Kevin said, "This is the list of books he checked out, if he's planning on trying to help Scott when he turns he's going to get hurt."

I skimmed through the list in my hand: __History of Lycanthropy, Werewolves: Myths and Legends, Folktales and Fairy Tales, The Twilight Saga__. I burst out laughing at the last one.

"Okay, now not only do I need to babysit a teenage werewolf, but also his attention-deficit best friend," I sighed. "I better get going, I still need to get ready for this party and I want to get in some training first."

"Best of luck, eh?" Kevin patted me on the shoulder. "Let me know if anything goes wrong and you need me."

"Don't worry, if there's any ancient text I need translated you'll be the first to know," I grinned at him with my tongue between my teeth before darting out the door without giving him a chance to retaliate. "Bye Kevin!" I called over my shoulder, ignoring his grumbling.

* * *

I stared down at the three outfits on my bed in deep thought, my face twisted into a scowl.

"I used to be so good at this," I muttered in frustration.

I had been involved in a stare-down with my clothing for the better part of half-an-hour. And despite my best attempts, we were still at an impasse. At least I'd been able to do my hair and makeup without a similar dilemma. Believe it or not, I used to be popular. I used to be one of the cool kids. I'd been an honest to goodness __cheerleader__ for all of two weeks before my status had gone from Potential to Slayer and I'd been forced to flee the city.

"This is ridiculous," I told myself sternly. "You are ridiculous. Just pick something."

And then I proceeded to do something that actually was ridiculous.

Closing my eyes I rapidly swung my hand back and forth in front of my bed, finger pointing towards the outfits laid out taunting me. I sang 'eenie, meenie, minie, moe' aloud, stopping my finger and opening my eyes once the rhyme had ended. "Congratulations Outfit Number 2!" I called out to the empty room like a host on a game-show.

"This is why you only have, like, 3 friends Fred Ackerman," I told myself as I got dressed. "Because you are a great big dork."

The blue long-sleeved shirt-dress I'd decided on was just long enough to hide the holster of throwing-knives I'd strapped to my upper thigh. I slipped another dagger into my right knee-high boot and Back-Up was tucked into the pocket of my leather jacket. I considered bringing Lord Stabbington III, but just couldn't think of anywhere to hide him, same with Chewy.

If necessary, I could just shove a tree-branch into the Alpha if we ran into him. It wouldn't be the first time. Buffy __loved__ improvisation, we actually got points on creative slaying.

Lydia's house was a 20 minute walk from mine, and once I arrived the party was in full-swing.

Derek had text me to let me know that he was on his way, and I could just imagine him standing in some dark corner staring at Scott and creeping the hell out of him. That being said, it wasn't my place to tell him how to behave – maybe it was a wolf thing? A creepy wolf thing. He was lucky he was pretty enough for his somewhat stalkerish tendencies to come off as more teen-romance hero than serial-killer.

"Damn Barbie, I'll be your Ken tonight," A male voice slurred above me, and I cast my stunned gaze upwards to see a well-built lacrosse player leering down at me. He could've been attractive, if his idea of wooing wasn't bad pick-up lines and staring down the front of my dress. Not that there was much to see, we couldn't all be as blessed as Lydia Martin in the chestal region.

"Uh, excuse me?" I responded automatically out of pure shock.

Unfortunately he took my words as encouragement, stepping closer and wrapping one large hand around my upper arm. He grinned, "What say me and you go find a quiet corner and –"

Well, handsome, what girl would turn down an offer like that?

"Excuse me, but can I have your beer for a second?" I tilted my head to the side and fluttered my eyelashes at him.

Grinning as though he'd just won the lottery he passed the red solo cup to me without a second thought. "Thanks," I said perkily as I proceeded to toss the contents of it in his face.

Spluttering he swiped a hand over his increasingly reddening face, "You bitch!"

I lowered my raised arm as a hand clapped down on the guys shoulder and he was spun around to face an annoyed looking Jackson Whittemore. Damn, I'd been looking forward to clocking the guy. I don't care how much he'd had to drink, who just went around grabbing random girls and propositioning them?

"Hey Adam," Jackson said with a tight smile. "Why don't you go grab another drink, huh?"

"I wouldn't need one if Barbie hadn't gone postal and tossed mine all over me!" Adam protested, waving a hand in my direction.

"I'll say that again," Jackson's voice was low. "Go get another drink before I put you through this wall."

The two of them engaged in some strange testosterone-fueled staring match for a few moments before Adam looked away and shook his head, "Screw you Jackson," He brandished a finger in the boys face as he pushed past him. "Have the crazy bitch for all I care!"

Jackson ignored him, letting him walk off and approaching me instead. "Hey, you alright?" He asked, sounding legitimately concerned. And colour me legitimately shocked. I mean, sure we'd been talking during the last few days – turned out we both shared a love of Gym Class Heroes, Ronda Rousey, and the movie The Mighty Ducks, though he did protest that Hoosiers was better – during math class and in between classes. Lydia didn't really give us much opportunity to talk without her being involved in the conversation, which meant that the conversation generally wasn't that interesting, so I spent most of lunch talking with Allison. But I hadn't realised that in the space of almost a week we had somehow progressed to almost-friends. Maybe full-blown friends. I still wasn't sure. I'd put off the friendship-bracelets for a little while longer, at least.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, shaking off my confusion. "That big tough guy act wasn't necessary though – I was about to show him what-for," I teased, raising my fists in front of me and and softly moving them through the air like a kitten batting at someones finger.

Chuckling, Jackson gently pushed my fists down from in front of my face, "Sure you were tiger, how 'bout you put those away before you hurt yourself?"

I laughed. Oh, if only you knew Jackson, if only you knew.

"So, you look nice," He offered, gesturing towards my outfit with the red solo cup in his hand.

"Gee, thanks," I winked at him. "And as always, you look as though you've stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue. At least you're consistent."

This time I got a full-fledged laugh that tapered off as Lydia Martin, her decidedly more curvier than mine form poured into a navy bodycon-dress, draped herself over him with her manicured fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck as she stared at me.

Okay Mama Bear, I get it. This one's yours, I'm not trying to steal your toy.

"Fred!" She exclaimed. "You made it."

"It would appear so," I smiled at the redhead as she tossed her artless tumble of curls over her shoulder.

"And why don't you have a drink?" She demanded, smoky green eyes narrowing in disapproval.

"That's an excellent question!" I told her brightly. "How about I go fix that? Nice seeing you!"

Before either of them had a chance to respond I'd slipped into the crowd and high-tailed it outside.

Managing to locate the bar I accepted a red cup full of what I was told was rum and coke just so I looked the part of enjoying a high-school party while I kept an eye on Scott. Walking over to a giant brazier on the other side of the pool from the dance-floor I casually leaned up against an ivy-covered wall and took a tentative sip of my drink. Grimacing, I then proceeded to discretely spit it back into the cup before furtively glancing around and after seeing that no one was looking toss the still full cup into the garden beside me.

"Not a fan, huh?" A deep voice rumbled beside me.

Jumping slightly, I glared up at Derek as he smirked down at me – I actually thought he was one lip twitch away from an amused smile – and exasperatedly replied, "We need to get you a bell or something. Seriously – stamp your feet a little or whistle a jaunty tune instead of creepily sneaking up on people."

"But you're cute when you squeak," He raised his eyebrows at me as his smirked widened.

"Oh ho, buddy!" I informed him. "I do not squeak."

"Sure you don't."

"How's Scott doing?" I changed the subject, tilting my head towards where Scott and Allison had just joined the group of people dancing on the patio.

"As well as any teenage boy on a date with a pretty girl," Derek replied as he crossed his arms across his chest, causing his jacket to pull tight over his shoulders and biceps and I couldn't help but eye up the lines of muscle. So sue me, I'm a teenage girl and he was hot.

Like, __damn__.

"Though, if he keeps that up he's not going to last long," Mr Broody continued, nodding in the direction of Allison and Scott dancing close together.

"I can't figure out if that's meant to be a euphemism or not," I stated flatly, before flashing his blank expression a tongue-in-teeth grin. "I'll leave that with you while I go locate the bathroom," I clapped him on the shoulder as I breezed past him and headed towards the patio doors.

As I finally popped free of the crowd of writhing teenagers I was greeted with the sight of Lydia pushed up against the side of the house while a very amorous Jackson plastered himself to her and went to town. What made me frown was the way she was very intensely staring at one Scott McCall during this. With a shrug I decided it wasn't my problem what weird exhibitionist crap Lydia got off on and entered the house with the sole goal of finding a bathroom.

After eventually finding an unoccupied bathroom I stepped back out in the living room just in time to almost be taken out by a very sweaty, very panicked looking Scott McCall. Less than a minute behind him was a very distraught Allison Argent. After a moments hesitation, I headed off after them.

Allison and I made it down the front steps of the house just in time to watch Scott jump in his car and drive off without a second glance at the girl calling his name in confusion.

Allison spun around towards me, "You're friends with him, right? Why did he take off?"

I held my hands up and said as reassuringly as possible, "I'd say we're more comfortable acquaintances. Maybe he wasn't feeling well? He wasn't looking too good."

"I don't understand," Allison dragged a hand through her curled hair in frustration. "I thought things were going really well. Did I do something wrong? Was it me?" She blinked down at me and it hurt to see the insecurity in her dark eyes.

"Of course you didn't!" My voice was firm. "Scott's just a weirdo who's obviously going through something and is too socially-awkward to explain himself."

Allison let out a choked laugh, "Thanks."

"Hey," A familiar voice said and we both turned to see Derek approaching us.

"Um, hi," Allison automatically replied as she looked him up and down, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Allison, this is Derek," I introduced the two of them. "He's a friend of mine - and Scott."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Allison said distractedly, her smile shaky as she tried her best to be polite while worrying about what she'd done to upset Scott.

"I saw that Scott ran out on you, did he have another one of his episodes?" Derek shoved his hands in his pockets as he decided to get me in on the lie.

I refrained from rolling my eyes, "If that's what you call them. Maybe he's on his man-period?" I nudged Allison with my elbow and grinned up at her until she allowed herself to grin back, even if it was wobbly. Thank the Gods that she liked terrible jokes.

"I thought I'd offer you a ride home – if you want one?" Derek didn't even deign my question with an answer as he gestured with a thumb towards a shiny black Camaro parked on the side of the road and my eyes instantly went wide as I stared at it.

I think I'm in love. She was all sleek lines and I could just imagine the rumble of that engine in my ears. I bet she cornered like she was on rails too. My new goal in life was to get Derek Hale to let me drive his car.

"You're friends with Scott?" Allison asked in a tentative voice as she pulled her blazer around her more snugly, more for comfort than because she was cold I suspected.

"Yeah," Derek said with a reassuring smile. Sweet Zac Efron, that boy should smile more often – it made him absolutely gorgeous. "And it's the least I can do to make sure you get home safe."

When Allison hesitated, I took pity on Derek and jumped in, "It's okay Allison. You can trust Derek," Going for a bit of levity I added, "Besides, did you see his car? I'm about ready to take him up on an offer for a ride home."

Giggling, she nodded, "Alright."

"Well then, get going you crazy kids," I started ushering them towards the car. "Let me know when you get home," I told Allison as she got in the passenger side, before addressing Derek mock-sternly, "And you – don't let your hand slip on the gear-shift."

Smiling brightly at his answering glare I waved at Allison and muttered loud enough for Derek's enhanced hearing to pick up, "I'll track down Scott. Get her home safe."

He nodded before jumping in the car and speeding off.

"Was that Derek Hale?"

Looking over my shoulder I saw Stiles barreling towards me with a tan blazer in one hand and his keys clutched in the other. He tripped on the last step and narrowly avoided face-planting into the lawn.

"That it was," I replied with a raised eyebrow.

"And you let him drive off with Allison?" He asked flatly, the tone of his voice implying that he was questioning my intelligence.

Narrowing my eyes at him I replied, "Your keen observation skills continue to astound."

The Powers That Be were testing me. This was my punishment for not being a better slayer and getting Scott McCall bitten. I wondered if smiting would be less painful than this.

"Why-why would you do that?" He was waving his arms around as he worked himself up. "I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, but your boyfriend? Yeah – well he's dangerous! Or-well- _ _potentially__ dangerous! And you just let Allison get in a car with him – alone!"

Irritated, I snapped, "I've been in his __house__ alone with him - and I'm still alive! She's a Hell of a lot safer with Derek Hale, than she is with Scott right now."

Refusing to stand there and have my intelligence by questioned, I pushed past him and pulled out my phone opening my GPS app. Kevin had managed to get me Scott's address out of the school records and I typed it into the search bar, after a moment seeing a little map with a red line showing the fastest way there appearing on the screen. Hearing footsteps behind me I spun around to face an aggravated Stiles Stilinski – I ignored the small part of me that whispered he looked kinda hot with his eyes darkened in anger, red blotches rising on his high cheekbones The nostrils on his up-turned nose flaring, cupids-bow lips pursed and his sharp jaw clicking from being so tightly clenched. In that moment I understood why guys found girls attractive when they were angry – brandishing a finger in his face I ordered, "Go home, Stiles. Please."

Why couldn't the guy see that I was trying to stop him from being turned into a little werewolf canape?

Making a sound of frustration low in his throat, he threw his hands up in the air and stared at me for a moment before running across the road and jumping into a baby-blue jeep. Revving the engine more than necessary due to his emotions running high he powered off down the road, presumably not to his own house but to the same place I was heading to.

Challenge accepted, Stilinski.

I burst into a full-blown sprint, moving down the side-walk fast enough that my hair blew straight back from my face and my skirt plastered itself to my upper-thighs. It was late enough at night that I didn't run into anyone, so I didn't have to slow down to a 'normal' speed on my several-block dash to the McCall residence. At one point I did speed past a blue jeep at a stop sign, and I turned my head to catch the stunned look on Stiles' face as he tried to process how fast I was moving.

I loved running. Maybe I should join the track team? No, I don't think I could handle constantly having to hold back. That was the problem with having superpowers, it kind of felt like you were cheating when it came to ordinary things like sports.

I hastened my steps as the large blue and white house came into sight, moving across the front yard and leaping up to catch hold of the edge of the porch-roof. Swinging myself forwards, I used my backwards momentum to launch myself up and land on the edge of the roof in a crouch. I could hear Scott's sounds of distress coming from the room directly in front of me, and moved around the corner of the house as Stiles' car came rocketing around the corner and parked haphazardly half on the curb. I fetched up hard against the blue cladding beside the window, keeping to the shadow cast by the yellow light spilling out from inside his room. I'd only intervene if Stiles was in danger. Sure, the guy had insulted me – but I didn't want him to be brutally mauled or, you know, dead.

A rapid knocking on the bedroom door was answered by Scott's strained voice, "Go away!"

"Scott?" Stiles' voice was thin and panicked, though muffled through the door. "It's me!"

I could hear Scott stumble over to the door and open it. "Let me in Scott – I can help!" Stiles pleaded.

"No!" Scott breathed heavily before continuing. "Listen – you've gotta find Allison!"

"She's fine," Stiles tried to placate his friend in an attempt to be let inside, it even may have worked if Scott wasn't pumped to the limit with wolfy hormones. "Alright? I-I-I saw her and she's totally fine. I-I saw her get a ride from the party –" Why was Stiles so calm about that when less than 10 minutes ago he'd bitten my head off for letting Allison go with Derek? "– she's totally fine, alright?"

"I think I know who it is," Scott's voice was strained as he struggled for control and I risked peeking around the edge of the window-sill. He was pressed up against the slightly ajar door that I assumed Stiles was pressing against from the other side. Scott was shirtless with wet hair and I couldn't tell if it was water or sweat running down the twitching muscles of his back.

"Dude, just let me in! We can talk –"

"It's Derek – Derek Hale's the werewolf! He's the one that bit me! He's the one that killed the girl in the woods!" Scott's voice got increasingly more upset as he listed all his points against Derek and I rolled my eyes at the dramatics of it all. Seriously Derek? This was how you Obi Wan-ed his Luke? Bang up job you're doing – the kid thinks you're a murderer __and__ the thing who bit him.

"Scott," Stiles said after a beat. "Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party."

Why the Hell did you tell him that?! I vowed to punch Stiles Stilinski the next time I saw him for being so thoroughly tactless and thoughtless.

Scott slammed the door shut in his anger and I darted around the side of the house just as he vaulted through the window, dropping from the porch-roof to the ground and racing off into the night. Without a second thought, I took off after him. Someone had to keep him from doing something stupid. And since it was my stupidity that got him into this mess, it had to be me.

We wound up at the preserve, Scott jumping up onto Derek's conveniently parked car – making me wince in sympathy for the vehicle – and growling upon finding it empty before plunging into the woods. The kid was fast, but also clumsy as he wasn't used to his new-found abilities, as he loped across the dead leaves and fallen branches. I liked to think I was a lot more graceful, keeping back just enough so that he wouldn't register me as a threat if he broke out of his single-minded goal of finding Derek.

Hanging from a tree-branch up ahead was Allison's blazer from earlier tonight and I watched as Scott stared at it before growling out into the woods, "Where is she?!"

"Safe from you," Derek's voice floated out of the darkness before he silently padded up behind Scott and grabbed him by the arms, throwing him to the ground where the two of them proceeded to roll over one another in a battle for dominance.

I had to bite my tongue at the histrionics of it all. Honestly – it was hilarious. The only thing that would make it better were if a thick fog started lapping at our ankles while a crow squawked ominously in the trees.

Derek gained the upper hand and pushed Scott up against a tree, crouching down in front of him while urgently scanning the area around us. I moved closer towards the two unnoticed, having realised what Derek had now that I was listening for it.

Hunters.

"What did you do with her?" Scott desperately demanded, not noticing the sudden tension in the air with his emotions running rampant.

"Be quiet!" Derek hushed him before breathing in deep through his nose. "Too late. They're here. Run!" He ordered a confused Scott before taking off.

Scott managed to stand and stumble two steps before the first flash-bang arrow struck the tree to the left of him, making him swing his head around as his temporary blindness made him disorientated. He flung a hand out to grab a nearby tree-trunk for balance and was rewarded by an arrow through his forearm, making him cry out in guttural pain. I winced in sympathy, piercing wounds were a bitch. Give me blunt force trauma any day, bruising healed much faster and easier than cuts and holes.

Three men approached him, the leader being a middle-aged man with greying hair and a cross-bow – the other two seemed slightly younger. The leader instructed the man on his left to "Take him."

Yeah, sorry buddy, but that wouldn't be happening.

I saw Derek running towards the hunters and intercepted, "Help Scott!" I hissed at him. "I'll take care of these guys."

Because they were human, I knew I couldn't use any of the weapons I'd brought with me tonight. So I slipped behind the left one and with two well-placed jabs he dropped to the ground unconscious. By the time the leader noticed what was going on, his second guy was also on the forest-floor and I was racing away in the same direction Derek and Scott had headed.

I knew how hunters worked. There was no way that guy was going to come after us with two of his men down and the odds being three to one. Hunters preferred the odds to be in their favour, after all. I had to admit, I wasn't a huge fan of hunters. They saw life in black and white. There were no shades of grey in their crusade against the supernatural. It was easier to view the world in black and white, but I'd learned that just because it was easy didn't mean it was necessarily right. To them it didn't matter if a creature hadn't harmed anyone, all it meant was that they hadn't harmed anyone __yet__. I'd met a vampire with a soul, and he had been more loyal than the majority of the humans I'd met. Hell, Dawn had told me he had looked out for her before he'd even had a soul, that he'd loved Buffy without a soul. And it had made me wonder that maybe having a soul – or being human – wasn't critical to being a good person. Hunters just seemed unable to make that distinction, all too often driven by some sense of vengeance or justice.

Not to mention, they'd just shot Scott in the arm without even a warning or a chance to surrender - that was just a dick move.

After running a solid fifteen minutes Scott collapsed to the ground, his overly pronounced brow and flattened nose morphing back into his usual features while his fangs retracted and the gold of his eyes dimmed. Panting, he clutched at a tree for support – a common theme for him tonight – and leaned back against it to peer up at Derek. I lingered behind Derek, staying alert and ready to step in if needed.

"Who were they?"

"Hunters," Derek replied as he turned on the spot, preparing for any sign of approach. "Their kind has been hunting us for centuries"

Oh, exciting, a history lesson. Probably not the best time nor location though, Derek.

"Us?!" Scott shouted at him as he pushed his way into a standing position while still sagging back against the tree for support. "You mean you! You did this to me!"

Derek really should've seen that reaction coming. The kid had just been blinded and shot in the arm with an arrow.

"Is it really so bad, Scott?" Derek queried as he stepped closer to the kid who was one second away from a full-blown meltdown of 2007 Britney proportions. "That you can see better, hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You've been given something that most people would kill for. The Bite is a gift."

"I don't want it!" Scott protested, every inch the ungrateful teenager as far as Derek was concerned.

I understood, though. Sometimes a gift could also be a curse.

"You will," Derek replied confidently. "And you're gonna need me if you want to learn to control it. So you and me, Scott," He leaned in close, placing one hand on Scott's shoulder as he maintained eye-contact. "We're brothers now."

It was official, Derek Hale was the biggest drama queen to ever walk the earth.

As he walked past me during his dramatic exit I couldn't quite hold in my amused snort, and I winked in the face of his glare.

"Hey Scott," I approached the boy with a soft smile and gentle voice as he stayed defeated on the ground.

"So are you my sister, then?" He muttered sullenly, looking up at me from under his sweat-soaked hair with distrust.

"Gods, no," I informed him. "That was just weird. I'm you're friend. Or, at least, I hope I'm you're friend. I'd really like to be your friend."

"Are you a werewolf too?" He asked, grudgingly curious. Well, that was a good sign at least. Much preferable to screaming and running away.

"No," I was firm. "But that's a conversation for another time. For now, shall we get you home before your nipples take someones eye out? Next time you want to run off into the woods in the middle of the night, it could be an idea to put on a shirt."

A laugh barked between his lips as he smiled despite himself and he took my offered hand to pull him to his feet. "I'd offer you my jacket," I said conversationally as we began walking. "But I don't think it's your size."

"Is Allison actually alright?" He asked me after a few minutes of walking in silence.

"She's at home, safe and sound," I told him. "Most likely wrapped up in bed, which coincidentally is where I'd like to be right about now."

"I hear you," Scott muttered with a soft shiver.

"And hey," I added. "If it makes you feel better, Derek Hale is apparently the biggest drama queen to roam the earth since Sirius Black."

Scott laughed again, and I let myself relish the sound. To be honest, making him laugh was the least I could do after ruining his life. The sun had began to rise and with it came a nice warm glow over everything, the sort of sunrise that made you think maybe everything would be alright.

"Fred?" Scott's voice was nervous as he glanced over at me.

"Hmm?" It took me a few steps to realise he had stopped and I turned to face him expectantly.

Staring at his feet he shifted uncomfortably before looking at me through the fall of curling hair on his forehead, "I don't want this. I don't want to be a monster."

My entire body softened as I approached him, my hands swinging forward to catch the tips of his fingers and squeezing tightly. "Scott, you are not a monster," My voice was firm as I stared up at him earnestly. "I've seen monsters - and you're not even close. You being a monster is as likely as seeing a leprechaun."

"But those people back there? The ones with the arrows - they wanted to kill me," Scott stated, as though random people in the woods with weapons were the leading authority on monsters instead of the slayer in front of him. Not that he knew I was a slayer, or even what a slayer is, but that's beside the point.

" _ _Those people__ ," The tone of my voice clearly stated how much I thought of them currently, "are essentially scared children running around with crossbows hunting down anything that they deem 'inhuman'. They see the world in absolutes when in reality it's more a great big blurry shade of gray."

Breaking through the trees, I heard a car on the road behind us and nudged Scott with my elbow after glancing over my shoulder. "Ah, here comes your valiant white knight on his blue, dented steed," I teased as Stiles began to pull over beside us. "I'm gonna book – get some sleep."

I'd decided that I was much too tired after a night of werewolf shenanigans to put up with all the questions Scott and Stiles – mostly Stiles – could fit into a car ride. A few days without answers on my part wouldn't kill them. Derek knew more about wolf stuff anyway, if he stopped being creepy enough for them to trust him that was.

"You have plans?" Scott asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I walked away from him backwards.

"No, I'd just rather be at home," I replied honestly with a wink, spinning around on my heel and disappearing into the trees without a second glance.

* * *

 ** **AN:****

 ** **Hey guys, hope you enjoy this chapter. With this we finally end Episode One, and next chapter we will be continuing into Episode Two.****

 ** **Now, I don't want to just be randomly having Fred being everywhere that Scott is, that would just be weird - especially at this point in the story where they're only very tentatively friends. And Stiles is currently lumping her in with Derek in terms of how trustworthy she is. So just clear warning there isn't a lot of Scott and Stiles in the next chapter - but there is a lot of Derek and a bit of Jackson and Lydia.****

 ** **As all the relationships grow stronger we'll be seeing Fred as more of a constant presence in what we actually see in the show instead of the behind the scenes stuff we'll be seeing in my retelling of Episode 2. I just want her transition into the Teen Wolf Universe to be organic, same with her interactions and relationships with the characters.****

 ** **Just so everyone is pre-warned even if it seems that Fred is getting a little chummy with other characters in this fic, the only Teen Wolf character that I plan on her having any form of romantic relationship with is Stiles. They are end-game. Though there will be a little competition in the form of another OC.****

 ** **As always, happy reading.****

 ** **-Susie Samurai****


	4. Why Are You Darkening My Door-Step?

****Chapter Four – Why Are You Darkening My Door-Step McBroody?****

 _ _You had it figured out,__

 _ _Since you were in school,__

 _ _Everybody loves pretty,__

 _ _Everybody loves cool.__

 _ _The Lucky One/Taylor Swift__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

"Where'd you run away to Friday night?"

I looked up from my book to find Jackson Whittemore straddling the back of his chair and staring at me with an expectant look on his face. I glanced across at Danny who shrugged, looking as surprised as I was that Jackson had even noticed my absence at the party with how far his tongue had been down Lydia's throat. As it was I'd had no less than 3 texts from Danny the next morning stating how disappointed he was in me for not even hanging out with him before running off. I'd had to do some serious grovelling to make it up to him as well as promising to accompany him out one night clubbing - an offer he could redeem at any time.

"I had to get Allison home," I explained with a one-shouldered shrug. "Scott had to book and she was left without a ride."

"I heard McCall ditched her," Jackson smugly. "Guess he can't handle whatever he's been taking to cheat his way onto the team."

"You know I'm friends with Scott," I pointed out to him. "And you also know that I'm refusing to take sides in your Montague-Capulet feud with him – I refuse to play Mercutio, as I'd rather not be skewered on your metaphorical sword thank you very much."

Romeo and Juliet had been one of my __favourite__ movies during my Leonardo DiCaprio obsession 3 years ago.

Looking as though he wanted to argue the point, Jackson instead shook his head and muttered, "You're so weird. I can't believe that I'm friends with you."

"Wow," I said in mock-hurt. "Does this mean you don't want the matching friendship-bracelet I made you? I was hoping that maybe later you wanted to come over and we could braid each others hair, but I see now that that plan was doomed from the beginning."

Next to me was a strange choking spluttering sound as Danny tried to smother his laughter while Jackson glared in his direction. "So, are you coming to the game this weekend?" Jackson stopped looking unimpressed long enough to ask.

"Of course," I raised my eyebrows. "Didn't you know? Lacrosse is __the__ game in Beacon Hills. Missing a game is suitable grounds for organizing a lynch-mob. I mean, violence, bad language, we're talking a whole lot of adult content here." Ignoring his bitch-face while Danny chortled next to me I continued, "I am sacrificing my Saturday afternoon to the gods of Arts and Crafts to make signs with your girlfriend. I'm assuming she'll need someone other than Allison to help her hold them up."

"You're making signs?" This made the boy perk up as he leaned closer to cheekily ask, "Are you gonna make me one?"

"Actually, I'm making a sign for my one and only true love – Danny," I told him with a smile, holding a fist up for Danny to bump his against without looking.

"Mr Whittemore, if you would be so kind as to face the front of the class so we may begin?"

Whatever come-back Jackson may have had planned got cut-off by Mr Smith and he turned to face the front with a scowl marring his pretty features.

Grinning over at Danny, I got ready to spend the rest of the lesson trying to wrap my head around the quadratic formula. Truthfully, fighting a vampire was easier.

* * *

"Scott McCall is __such__ a freakazoid!"

Allison stopped in the middle of her story of how Scott had apologised to her yesterday after school with absolutely no explanation why he had taken off Friday night, and whether I thought it was a bad idea her giving him a second chance or not. Of course, my opinion on the matter was if she liked Scott then why should she let anything or anyone else stand in the way of that. Life was much too short for people to get hung up on the things they should or shouldn't do. Tomorrow, you could be dead. An occurrence that was becoming increasingly more likely with a murderous Alpha roaming the streets of Beacon Hills after dark.

Both of us stared at a decidedly upset Lydia as she marched up to us, fists clenched at her sides and her cheeks flushed with fury, her footfalls sounding like gunshots whenever those 5-inch heels hit the linoleum floor.

"Is this for something in particular or just a general observation?" I asked as Allison continued to stare at Lydia in almost frightened awe. I didn't blame her, the girl was 5'3'' of righteous anger. An angry Lydia Martin brought to mind the stories of Valkyries that my father had told me before bed when I was little, fearsome women who would guide fallen warriors to Valhalla if they died with honor on the battlefield.

"Your boyfriend," Lydia spun on Allison who seemed to take an involuntary step backwards with a bewildered look on her face. "Needs to seriously control his 'roid rage. Thanks to him Jackson is now in the hospital with a separated shoulder. What if he can't play this Saturday? It'll all be Scott-freaking-McCall's fault!"

Slipping in between the two girls I gently forced Lydia to take a step back, "Okay Lydia, you can't blame Allison for this. Why don't we go visit Jackson after school and we'll find out what the doctors think about him being able to play this weekend, alright?"

"Ugh, fine!" She huffed with a toss of her hair. "Meet me by my car after school. Also, just so we're clear, Scott McCall is currently Public Enemy Number One." She pinned Allison with a look that promised bodily harm if she were crossed, "And we don't fraternize with the enemy."

Spending time with just Lydia and Jackson was a sacrifice I was willing to make for Allison. The girl was like the living embodiment of a Disney princess and seriously didn't deserve Lydia's wrath on the behalf of Scott – who wasn't even officially her boyfriend yet, they'd only known each other for all of a week and had one somewhat disastrous date. On the other hand, I could also understand why Lydia was upset, I would be too if some kid landed my boyfriend in hospital.

As Allison very obviously changed the subject by asking Lydia where she got her shoes, I leaned back against the locker behind me and tried to hold in a sigh. This is what I get for having a quiet afternoon at home yesterday instead of keeping a constant watch on Scott. While I was doing homework, training and researching with Kevin, he was off dislocating peoples shoulders.

I guess even teenage slayers don't get any time off.

* * *

At lunch I dropped down next to Stiles who almost tipped his chair backwards in surprise as I slammed my tray against the table, staring across it at a wide-eyed Scott McCall.

"Uh, hi Fred," Scott smiled nervously. As he well should be.

"Hi Scott," I replied with a misleading smile and tilt of my head.

"Why is she sitting with us?" Stiles asked, gesturing between Scott and I with his fork. "Why are you sitting with us?"

Ignoring him, I continued smiling at Scott, "How was practice?"

"It-uh-it was okay," My eyes followed the motion of him swallowing as he attempted to shrug casually. "Pretty boring, actually."

So that's how we're going to play it, huh Scott? Coy doesn't look as good on you as it does on me, buddy.

"Oh?" I asked, sounding interested until my voice grew harder. "Separating Jackson's shoulder was 'pretty boring' then?"

"God, it's not like he didn't deserve it!" Stiles exclaimed next to me, which I pointedly ignored and kept my attention on Scott who was beginning to squirm slightly under my gaze. "He was being a tool!"

If I dislocated the shoulder of every person who deserved it I'd be declared a menace to society. Surely Stiles knew the phrase 'with great power comes great responsibility'? He seemed like the type to own a plethora of pop culture paraphernalia, if not have a Star Trek shrine set up in his closet.

"Why aren't you and Derek working on your control yet?" I demanded. "This is important! You could've killed Jackson. What if it's Stiles next time? I can't be around 24/7 to keep you from going full on Cujo. It's bad enough that I'm gonna have to start watching all of your lacrosse games – I don't want to have to sit in on every practice too!"

At the way the colour drained from Scott's face and how Stiles went eerily silent and began fidgeting in his chair I grew instantly suspicious. Something else had happened, something they didn't want to tell me. Unfortunately for them, I was like a pitbull when it came to secrets – I'd lock my jaw and shake until they either gave in or their arm tore off. Whatever came first. Switching my gaze between the two boys I very calmly asked, "What happened?"

Now it was just a matter of which of them would break first.

"The-there was just a l-little incident-accident I guess you could say –" Stiles began stuttering as he waved his hands around agitatedly, red blotches appearing high on his cheekbones. "But-but we handled it, okay? __We__ handled it without __you__ or __Derek__."

"You almost __killed__ Stiles?" I whisper-shouted at Scott who looked taken-aback by my reaction. "When were you planning on telling me? His funeral?"

"I-uh-I didn't think you liked me?" Stiles said quietly.

Spinning on him exasperatedly I exclaimed, "I don't want you dead!"

"Oh," His brown eyes were wide as he looked at me dumbly. He thought I didn't like him? I liked him just fine even if he did need to learn to think before opening his mouth sometimes. He was just too soft and vulnerable and __human__ to be messing around with something as unpredictably volatile as werewolves.

Sticking a hand in each boys face I flicked my fingers in a 'give me' motion. "Alright then, phones – hand them over." When they both just stared at my hands dumbly I flicked my fingers more aggressively and repeated, "Phones – now."

Seconds later I had a phone in each hand and I efficiently entered myself into both of their contact lists, sending myself a text from each phone so that I had their numbers as well. On a whim, I also put Derek's number into Scott's phone – if he wanted to get pissy at me for it, I'd deal with it, but it was a much easier option than Derek stalking him in my opinion. A lot less creepy too. I passed the phones back to them and said, "Next time you feel your life is in danger – text me."

While Stiles stared at his phone in stunned silence Scott vigorously nodded his head up and down as he stared at me with those big puppy-dog eyes. "We will, I promise," Scott told me earnestly. "Right Stiles?" He prompted the other boy.

"Wha?" Stiles looked up, obviously having missed what Scott had said. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

As I began to rise from the table Stiles' hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist. "How do you know so much anyway?" He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "If you're not a werewolf, what are you?"

"That," I told him as I pried my arm from his grip, "is a conversation better had someplace that isn't a high-school cafeteria, since you don't know how to control the volume of your voice. Scott," I implored the other boy. "Please talk to Derek. He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do, compared to him I'm just a padawan."

"Pada-what?" Scott's face was scrunched up in confusion and I stared back in steadily growing shock.

Had he never seen Star Wars? How could he have never seen Star Wars?

"Please tell me you've seen Star Wars?" I practically begged.

"To my ever increasing disappointment, I hate to tell you but he hasn't," Stiles drawled with something dangerously close to disgust colouring his words but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Scott who was fidgeting as he grew increasingly uncomfortable.

How had Stiles never made him watch Star Wars?

"But, the only people who haven't seen Star Wars are the people in Star Wars," I continued desperately. "And that's because they lived the Star Wars."

"I'm-uh-I'm sorry?" Scott frantically apologised under my intensity.

"I just...I'm sorry Scott, but I just can't look at you right now," I told him as I shook my head in disbelief. "You think you know someone...I'll talk to you guys later."

As I walked away I could hear Stiles exclaim, "See? Even __she's__ seen Star Wars!"

* * *

The end of the day found me seated in a hospital room with a high-strung Lydia and brooding Jackson.

We'd been here almost an hour and so far all they two of them had done was bitch about Scott. Not to mention with how the two of them played off of each other, it was like watching a bad soap-opera. Just when I thought we'd moved past it, Lydia would make some snide little remark that would get Jackson's hackles up and they'd start all over again. It was almost like the two of them were scared of letting the other know how much they cared. So it was easier to just pick a common enemy and fixate on that instead of expressing honest emotions.

It was exhausting just witnessing it.

Both of them had learned pretty quickly not to get me involved in their mud-slinging towards Scott. I'd made it quite clear that if Scott wasn't here to defend himself, then I'd do it for him, and apparently the two of them hadn't appreciated the things I'd had to say on the matter.

Under all of the attitude and snark it was easy to see that Lydia was here because she actually cared about Jackson, not just because he was a part of her social-status as Queen Bee. Unfortunately though, she wasn't actually helping him in any way. By keeping him fixated on Scott all she was doing was working him up and encouraging the stupid rivalry between the two boys. I was well aware that she was the sort of person who thrived on drama and, to a lesser extent, conflict but this just seemed pointless to me.

After about an hour even Lydia seemed to have grown tired of the repetitive subject matter and called it a day, offering me a ride home.

We were pulling up outside my house when Lydia let out a sound of appreciation and drawled, "Who is that?"

Following her line of sight I saw Derek leaning up against one of the posts on my front porch with his arms crossed as he glared moodily into middle-distance. "Oh," I shrugged. "That's just Derek."

"And you," Lydia gestured towards me with one perfectly painted nail, "Just got a whole lot more interesting."

Eyes widening I was quick to say, "No, it's not like that."

"I never took you to be the type to have an older boyfriend," Lydia informed me with a thoughtful expression. "We'll definitely be discussing this later."

"No, we won't," I replied as I gestured between Derek and I with a finger. "Because there is nothing to discuss. Derek and I are decidedly not together. That is not a thing that is happening."

As I was shooed out of the car, Lydia raising her eyebrows suggestively in Derek's direction and ignoring my protests, I wondered how amused Derek would be if he found out that come tomorrow most of Beacon Hills student population would think that we were dating. My guess would be not very.

"Derek," I said with mock-exasperation as I walked down the pathway. "My answer is final – I will not go to prom with you."

The older wolf stared down at me unimpressed as I moved past him to unlock the door. "Cute," He replied deadpan.

"Aren't I just?" I shot back as I moved to the side to let him past me. "But seriously, why are you darkening my door-step McBroody?"

Shooting me a look that said he definitely didn't approve of the nickname as he trailed behind me while I entered the kitchen, he replied, "I'm here to help you learn how to fight werewolves."

I abandoned my search for wherever Kevin had hidden the blueberry pop-tarts I'd snuck in our last trip to the grocery store to stare at Derek excitedly, "You want to spar? With me?"

Taken-aback by my reaction he slowly said, "Yes?"

"As in full-strength, no holding back, no concerns about unintentionally causing you bodily trauma sparring?" It was like Christmas, Easter, and my birthday all at once.

I hadn't been able to have a proper sparring session since leaving HQ. Working through my katas was all well and good in keeping my muscle-memory in place, and Kevin did all he could to help with my reflexes and agility, but I still had to make a conscious effort to hold back. To only strike with a fifth of the force I was able to exert. The only time I really got to let loose was during fencing bouts with Kevin, and that was only because that man was an artist with a sabre and most of the time I had to concentrate on not letting him disarm me.

Shifting slightly Derek peered at me and again cautiously answered, "...yes?"

Repressing the urge to fist-pump the air with glee I instead grinned at the bewildered wolf and instructed, "Meet me in the basement in five minutes, the door's by the stairs." Before rushing off upstairs to get changed.

I returned dressed in yoga pants and a tank-top, with my hair pulled back into low pigtails. Derek was wandering around the basement, inspecting the weaponry collection we had hanging on the walls. "I see you found The Huntsman," I commented as I bounced across the mats towards him, making him pull away from the ornately engraved battle-axe he was admiring, the end of the metal haft was filed to a pointed tip. "I dusted at least three uber-vamps with that thing. Do you know how hard it is to get one of those things in the heart? Their sternums are ridiculously dense. Much easier to just behead - though it's kinda of the ick when it takes two swings and they're running at you with their head flopping against their shoulder."

"Uber-vamp?"

Waving a hand around flippantly I explained, "Turok-Han, they're like the OG vampires. Giles described them as neanderthal vamps. We had to fight practically an army of them in the Hellmouth. It was great fun - for a slayer anyway. Lots of fond memories there. I don't suggest visiting though, it got terrible reviews online."

If fun was synonymous with 'one of the most terrifying experiences of my life'. But I couldn't show weakness in front of Derek, as far as he was concerned I was everything the myth of the Slayer painted me to be. Capable, fearless, powerful.

Yeah, I wasn't buying that either.

"So," I moved towards the middle of the mats we had set up to cover the entire floor of the room. The whole reason we had bought this house was that the basement spanned almost half the length of the house itself, leaving plenty of space for our weapons and training equipment. I began moving through a series of stretches to limber up, "Are you gonna wolf-out for this or keep your pretty face on?"

Making a face at me Derek shucked off his jacket and approached me, choosing to keep his shoes on and not to stretch – ah well, when he got a muscle cramp he'd be getting zero sympathy from me. "Unlike Scott, I don't need to be fully shifted in order to use my full strength."

"Alright, pretty face it is," I pulled my fist back and sent it towards his face while I was still talking.

Derek batted it to the side with his forearm, following up with a right hook of his own that I redirected before drawing my knee up and kicking him square in the stomach. His eyes widened, flickering to blue and back, as he slid back several feet though impressively he managed to remain standing the whole time. With a feral grin I ran at him and aimed a roundhouse kick towards his face, his hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around my ankle to send me spinning to the ground. Catching myself I pushed up into a handspring and landed in a fighting crouch with my fists held defensively in front of me as Derek approached me. We once again traded blows, each of us managing to counter the others punches, until Derek managed to slip through my guard and slam his open palm against my chest. I went flying back through the air to hit the brick wall behind me with a soft grunt, Derek was on me with an instant and I dropped down just as his fist hit the wall where my head had been, red dust floating into the air from the force of the blow.

Slipping between his spread legs I sprung up and once again kicked him behind the knee following up with two quick jabs to his kidney and then bringing my knee up to hit him full-force in the small of his back, slamming him up against the wall. A growl began low in his throat as he pushed off the wall and spun to face me as I danced out of the range of his curved fingers. This time he launched himself at me, eyes glowing bright blue in the half-light cast by the two fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling. His arms wrapped around my waist and he drove me to the ground laying heavily across me, hips nestled between my thighs before he drew back on his haunches. Grinning up at him I waggled my eyebrows suggestively before locking my ankles tight around his waist and arching my back. Before I had a chance to do anything both of my wrists were pinned down to the mat on either side of my head and Derek leaned in close to my face as he bore down with his superior weight. 170-ish pounds of strapping young werewolf was certainly enough to give a girl a little trouble.

Unfortunately for him, I was used to fighting opponents larger than me – at 5'1'' it was hard to find anyone smaller than me to be honest.

"Yield?" He growled lowly, breath cool against my flushed skin.

"And miss the look on your face?" I laughed breathlessly. "Absolutely not."

And then I headbutted him.

While he was distracted I dropped one leg down to curve next to his while driving my other knee into his waist to force him to turn sideways. As his grip loosened on my wrists I reached out and fisted my hand in the material of his shirt at the shoulder and twisting used my entire body weight to force him down. In seconds our situation was reversed and I was straddling his hips as he glared up at me with grudging respect. Blood was smeared over his face from where I'd broken his nose and I couldn't help but think he looked a bit like a warrior king. Maybe Derek was Aragorn?

Balling up my fist I aimed a punch towards his face that he caught, and as I went to yank my hand back I felt his body shift beneath me. With a buck of his hips I was dislodged and in the distraction he gripped my shoulders and sent me flying over him.

After landing heavily I clambered to my feet and looked over to where Derek had done the same.

Letting out a soft laugh I offered, "Tie?"

"Tie," He agreed as he glanced up at the small windows that showed the golden glow of the sun starting to set. By the looks of things we'd been at it for at least an hour.

Stretching my neck to the side I asked, "How quickly do you heal?"

Frowning at me as he retrieved his jacket he answered, "Depending on the wound it can take anywhere between a few hours to a few days. Why?"

Bouncing over to him, still riding my adrenaline the adrenaline running through my veins, I grinned up at him, "Because next time we could use weapons."

I grabbed a towel from the washing basket in the corner and wiped my face of sweat and the few drops of Derek's blood that had fallen on me in the melee.

"How fast do you heal?" It was as though he didn't want me to realise he was genuinely curious as he narrowed his eyes at me.

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug I replied, "Bout the same as you." I turned in a slow circle with my arms held out to the side, "As you can see, our encounter has left me completely unmarked," I narrowed my eyes at him, "So next time – don't hold back."

Green eyes widened in surprise as he rushed to retort, "I wasn't holding back."

Patting his arm as I moved past him and led the way back upstairs I shot over my shoulder, "Sure you weren't, big guy," grinning when the towel I tossed him hit him square in the face.

When we got upstairs I found Kevin in the kitchen making tea, it appeared he had arrived home from the school not that long ago. I wondered if he'd checked in on us downstairs and just what he made of it – judging from the look he shot me as Derek followed me into the room we'd definitely be discussing it later.

"Derek," I said as I jumped up onto the bench and ignored Kevin's sigh of disapproval. "This is my Watcher – Kevin Jones. Kevin, this is Derek Hale our resident werewolf expert. Kevin's British, Derek likes to speak with his eyebrows – have fun you two."

Derek glared at me from the doorway while Kevin looked him up and down as though he were measuring the wolfs worth, eyes lingering on the blood on the collar of his shirt and the bloody towel in his hand. "So, Derek," Kevin started. "Just how old are you?"

Looking mildly shocked at the line of questioning Derek answered, "I'm 22."

Realising what Kevin was getting at, I looked between the two of them in ever growing horror. "Oh, Gods please don't go there Kevin." I pleaded under my breath, Derek's head twitching in my direction letting me know that he heard me.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Fred is only 16," Kevin continued conversationally, his tone misleadingly pleasant. And yet I was still old enough to die of embarrassment, thanks for that Kevin.

"I am aware," Derek's voice was flat, and as he glanced over at me I mouthed the words 'I'm sorry'. "Is this where you threaten me?"

"Oh, I don't need to threaten you," Kevin chuckled genuinely. "Fred's more than capable of doing that herself." He grew serious again as he pinned Derek with a hard stare. "But I will say that I have access to a very rare strain of wolfsbane and I'm very good at making things look like an accident."

While I tried to gain control over the embarrassed blush colouring my cheeks Derek shifted uncomfortably in place avoiding eye contact with both Kevin and I. Not that I blamed the guy. Kevin had just low-key threatened his life if he ever made any advances on me that Kevin regarded as sexual or untoward. I'd be lucky if I could get the guy to ever spar with me again without him wondering if he was about be accused of felony sexual assault. Dammit Kevin.

"Anyway, Fred if you need me I'll be in the living-room," Kevin told me with tea in hand. Approaching the door-way he held his hand out, "Nice to meet you Derek. I'd love to talk to you more sometime about your species of werewolf. Very fascinating."

Derek returned the handshake with a bemused look on his face before moving aside and letting Kevin through. As he looked over at me I held my hands up placatingly, "I told you he was British. If it makes you feel any better, I do not feel as though you are a threat to my virtue." I paused before continuing thoughtfully, "Though most of the student body might come tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" Derek demanded through clenched teeth as he furrowed his brow.

"Nothing!" I slid off the bench and made a show of checking the time on the clock. "Would you look at the time – you probably have people to do and things to see. I mean things to do and people to see. I mean - I'm sorry for keeping you so late."

"I was actually going to ask if you wanted to help me look for the Alpha," Derek muttered, looking as though the last 10 minutes had made him rethink that offer.

"I'll check in with you on patrol later tonight," I promised him as I began ushering him towards the front door. "But I've got plans with a friend and I'm already running late."

* * *

I tapped lightly on the ajar hospital door before poking my head inside.

"Hey Jackson, how you doing?" I asked as I stepped inside.

The bored teenage boy scowled at me from where he was lying in the hospital bed, "If I have to sit through one more episode of Downton Abbey I'm going to throw that TV out of the window."

Fair enough, period drama wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

"Good to know," I nodded as I dropped down onto the armchair pulled up next to his bed. "I'm glad I left the corset and petticoats at home then."

"Where's Lydia then?"

I spread my arms wide and sighed, "Sorry to disappoint, but I am without the joy that is your other half."

Looking genuinely perplexed Jackson frowned at me, "What are you doing here then?"

"Well," I clapped my hands together. "I do remember promising to make friendship bracelets and braid each others hair, don't you? And this would be the perfect opportunity as you can't run away!"

"Yeah, that's never happening."

Refusing to be deterred by his bitch-face I pulled my messenger-bag onto my lap and rummaged around. As the bag of doritos hit him square in the face I couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled up at the shocked look on his face. Next I dropped my MacBook onto the bed next to him, "Or I decided to cheer you up through the healing power of doritos and television. That could be a thing too."

Jackson's face had pulled tight, as though he didn't want me to know that he appreciated what I was doing. "What'd you bring to watch?" He eventually muttered.

"Die Hard," I began to list before Jackson cut me off.

"That's a Christmas movie."

I beamed at him, "Thank you! Someone else who understands! It's also the best cop movie of all time. One guy heroically saving the day while everyone else stands around and watches. It's the story of my life."

Smirking at me Jackson replied, "Sure it is. What else did you bring?"

"We also have The Mighty Ducks," I began booting up my computer before shooting Jackson a side-ways glance, "As well as Dragon Ball Z: Abridged."

"Do I even want to ask?"

"Oh Jackson, prepare to meet your idol – Vegeta," I informed him excitedly as I pulled the armchair flush against his bed and angled the computer for both of us to be able to easily view it. I admit I wasn't the sort of girl that was into anime and cartoons, but one of my guy friends had introduced me to Dragon Ball Z: Abridged last year and it was just my type of humour. And Vegeta was my kind of character. Everything out of his mouth was pure comedy gold.

Seven episodes of Dragon Ball Z: Abridged later and I had Jackson hooked, though he ardently denied it I knew he was going to be looking up every episode on YouTube after I left. We had moved onto The Mighty Ducks when he shifted uncomfortably next to me and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"What's up Jackson?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from the screen to look up at Jackson who was actually looking slightly constipated if I were being honest. "Do I need to get a nurse? You kind of look like you're in pain."

"I-uh-I just wanted to say...thanks," He forced the words out as though he were unused to ever having to thank anyone for anything. "You didn't have to do this."

I understood where Jackson was coming from. We'd known each other for just over a week and here I was in his hospital room without any other mutual friend to be the buffer between us. Sure, the guy was a bit of a douche bag – okay, a whole lot of a douche bag – but I also couldn't help but think of the way he had stepped in at the party when that guy had gotten aggressive over my rejection. Or the way he had invited me to lunch on my first day, sure that had mostly been Danny but Jackson hadn't been obligated to keep us company while I had gone to my locker – he could have just met us in the cafeteria. I couldn't help but wonder how much of Jackson's arrogance was real, and how much was just teenage boy posturing.

Also, I felt a bit guilty that Scott had injured him badly enough to land him in hospital. In a way, anything Scott did could in some way be traced back to me since the boy was my responsibility now. I resolved to get a bit more involved in what was going on with him so something like this didn't happen again.

"I know," I told him brightly. "But I wanted to. Sometimes we just need someone else to help make the best out of a shitty situation. Now enough chick flick moment's – Joshua Jackson's about to make a rousing speech and it's my favorite part of the movie. Yeah, you cry if you want to Charlie – you cry like a Gods-damned champ!"

* * *

 ** **AN:****

 ** **Hey, I just wanted to say a great big thank you to my new followers and faves - I definitely appreciate those notifications. But mostly a huge thanks and welcome to Dinah, your review made my day and I can't wait to hear what you think of what's coming up next!****

 ** **I'm also putting a bit of effort into developing Jackson's character - he was one of my favourites due to his comedic value and I feel there's a lot more to his character than just being an arrogant douchebag. He wouldn't have Danny being such a loyal friend or Lydia being in love with him if he didn't have any good qualities. And no, Jackson won't be falling in love with Fred, it's a purely platonic relationship.****

 ** **Also I just want you all to know that if you have any questions about what's happened so far or behind the scenes stuff to feel free to ask. Something's I may not answer entirely just so that I don't give away any future plot happenings, but I'm always down for a chat =)****

 ** **Happy Reading,****

 ** **-Susie Samurai****


	5. You Are Far Too Pretty For Prison

****Chapter Five – You Are Far Too Pretty For Prison****

 _ _Be a part of the love club,__

 _ _Everything will glow for you.__

 _ _Go get punched for the love club,__

 _ _For the love club.__

 _ _The Love Club/Lorde__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

I was sitting at my desk watching a tutorial for French braids on my computer – I still can't get them right – when Kevin popped his head in the door-way and called, "I have a present for you."

Turning to face him I clasped my hands beneath my chin, taking in the grin on his face I asked wide-eyed and excited, "You got me a pony?"

"Uh, no," My face fell instantly and I turned back to the computer to let him know how completely uninterested I was in what he had in that case. "But it's shiny," He offered as he entered the room.

Tentatively I cast an curious look in his direction as he held his hands behind his back in an attempt to hide whatever he'd gotten me. "Shiny?" I questioned.

Nodding he confirmed, "Very."

Holding out one hand I very childishly replied, "Gimme."

Snatching back the brown paper covered package he dropped into my open hand I pulled at the twine holding it together and unwrapped it to reveal a cardboard jewelry box. Taking the lid off I found a bracelet made of woven black leather nestled inside, a long beaten silver plate holding it together engraved with the lunar-cycle. It almost resembled a punk-rock medical bracelet.

And I loved it.

Slipping it onto my wrist I wasn't surprised when the leather seemed to tighten of its own accord until it was comfortably snug against my skin, the silver plate cool against the underside of my wrist. "I'm assuming this is my anti-werewolf accessory, Q?" I asked Kevin with a cheeky smile.

"That would be correct, Bond," He grinned back continuing the joke, pushing imaginary glasses up his nose. "The silver plate is full of dried wolfsbane. Not enough to hurt or injure any werewolves mind, since I know you're more than likely going to get quite close with Scott and...Derek. But it will be enough to make them uncomfortable – so you will be able to use it to identify any other werewolves that may be lurking about town."

"How wizard," I grinned up at him, using an expression I'd heard him say on occasion.

"Quite."

"Speaking of Derek," I spun around in my chair once before coming to a stop when I was facing him again. "I haven't seen or heard from him since your little chat on Tuesday. So thanks for scaring off my potential sparring partner. You know, the only person in this town who could heal if I accidentally shatter his cheekbone?"

Kevin sighed and rubbed his jaw, his fingers scratching at the dark stubble dusting the tanned skin. "I was only looking out for your well-being. I'm not just your Watcher in terms of training you to protect the world from the supernatural – I'm also here to look after your well-being. You're my responsibility."

"I'm not Buffy."

He looked up at me, shocked at the words that hung in the now silent room. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as though unsure how to respond to my statement. "I...I am aware that you aren't Buffy..."

Sighing I elaborated on what I meant. "What I mean is you don't have to worry about me running off with some mysterious older guy and inadvertently bringing about an apocalypse. Yes, I like being around someone who's just as strong as I am, someone I don't have to worry about hurting by accident if I get a little excited. But," I pointed a finger at Kevin. "That doesn't mean I want to jump Derek Hale's bones. The guys 6 years older than me! Why would he go for a teenage girl? It's just weird. Anyway, Derek isn't looking for that sort of relationship. He's lonely," My voice dropped low, "he's wanting family – a pack. Not a girlfriend." Kevin was staring at me thoughtfully and his eyes widened as I continued, "His whole family was killed. Trapped in their house and then set on fire – did you know that? And now the Alpha's killed his sister, who was one of the only other two surviving Hales."

I'd done some research of my own this week when it became apparent that I wasn't going to run into Derek any time soon unless I actively sought him out. The newspaper reports had been split over whether it was arson or just a tragic accident. How the Hale family was reduced to Derek, his older sister Laura, and an uncle who had suffered such terrible injuries he was permanently hospitalized. I knew that I had to discuss it with Derek eventually, to know if it could be related to what was happening now with the Alpha. It certainly wasn't a conversation I was looking forward to bringing up to say the least - __'Hey, so I heard your entire family was trapped inside their house and set on fire - that's rough buddy'__. I suspected he would enjoy discussing it as much as I would enjoy discussing my own past losses.

"No, no I wasn't aware of that," Kevin replied gently.

"He's pretty much the last of his line," I looked up at Kevin with a sad smile curving my lips. "Just like I am. Just another __orphan__."

Orphan.

I hated the word. I hated all it suggested. I hated the way it was used – __'Oh, look at the poor little orphan girl', 'Oh, she's an orphan, isn't it sad?'__ The way it implied that I had somehow __lost__ both of my parents. Like I'd carelessly misplaced them like a pencil or my keys. As though I had some choice in the matter.

I understood Derek's loneliness and need for a family – a pack – because I felt it too. I'd begun to rebuild it, with Dawn and Kevin, but at the same time I held back for the fear that maybe, just maybe, I might lose them too. I had a pretty solid track-record that provided a lot of evidence for that statement.

Kevin strode over to me before crouching down so we were at eye-level with one another, bracing his hands against the armrests of my chair. "If it means that much to you, Derek is welcome here. Anytime. I'll have a chat to him and apologise for being a prat. In fact, why don't you invite him over for tea tonight after the game? That's a good idea, innit?"

I gave him a genuine smile, grateful that he was still taking care of me even though he didn't have the slightest clue on how to raise a teenage girl. Both of us were stumbling in the dark – me with being a slayer, him with being the sole guardian of a teenage girl – but at least we were stumbling together.

My phone started playing the Spiderman theme, interrupting our touching ABC Family moment, and I cautiously answered it after seeing the unknown number flashing across the screen.

"Hello, Fred speaking?" I scrunched my eyebrows as Kevin stared back equally bemused.

" _ _It's Derek. Scott and his idiot friend got me arrested."__ Derek sounded the most irritated I'd ever heard him, and I could almost imagine him sitting in the sheriffs office with his scowl in place, brow furrowed, and green eyes burning a hole in anyone unfortunate enough to make eye-contact.

"And you used your one phone call on me? I'm touched," I replied with a grin. "Let me guess – you didn't do it?"

" _ _Look, is there anything you or your Watcher can do?"__ The words sounded as though Derek was forcing them between his teeth, probably because he was unused to asking for help – Hell, he was probably unused to having people he could ask for help.

"Remember, the first thing you've gotta do is find the biggest meanest looking guy and punch him in the face to establish dominance," I told him seriously before chuckling at my own joke in the unamused silence following from Derek's end. "Look, don't worry McBroody – you are far too pretty for prison. We'll get you out."

" _ _...Thank you."__

Ending the call I met Kevin's eye with a wry smile tugging my lips, "Looks like you'll be making it up to Derek sooner than you thought – Scott and Stiles got him thrown in the clink and I need you to work your mojo to get him out."

As Kevin was rushing out of the house with keys in hand Lydia pulled into the drive-way, distracting me from the very strongly-worded text I was in the middle of composing for one Scott McCall. After a moment I exited out of the message app, discarding the text in favour of trying to enjoy my afternoon doing normal girly things with my normal girly friends.

I was just locking the front door when I heard feet pounding up the porch steps behind me and turned to be engulfed in Kevin's arms and my face pressed into his broad chest. He dropped a light kiss to the top of my head and said just loud enough for me to hear in a voice thick with conviction, "You, love, are never alone – remember that."

Just as quickly as the moment occurred, it was over, as he ran off in a whirlwind of tailored-suit limbs and poured himself into his yellow 1975 Mini and took off to rescue Derek for me – beeping the horn enthusiastically as he went.

Opening the passenger side door of Lydia's VW Beetle the driver raised a perfectly shaped brow at me and inquired, "Is your uncle always so...enthusiastic?" as she put the car into reverse and pulled out onto the street to go and collect Allison next.

"Yeah," I shook my head so my hair fell from behind my ear to cover up the smile I couldn't wipe off my face from his words, looking out the window. "Enthusiastic is definitely one way to describe him."

"And he's our librarian?"

"Yup," I answered, popping the 'p'. It was fair to say that I was unprepared for what the redhead did next.

"Well," Lydia licked at her lips before glancing at me mischievously. "He can check me out anytime."

* * *

"What's this?"

Lydia had my wrist in the sort of grip a slayer would be proud of as she inspected my new wolfsbane amulet. Annoyingly she had pulled me half-way over the table we were having lunch in at the local Starbucks to do this, I had narrowly avoided spilling iced-tea all over Allison in the process.

"That? That's nothing, just something my uncle saw and thought I'd like."

Inspecting it a moment longer, Lydia finally released my arm with an approving nod of her head. "I like it," She declared before delicately taking a bite of the panini she had ordered. "Very rockstar-chic."

"If I get up to go to the bathroom, you're not going to go all Regina George and tell Allison how ugly it is – are you?" I teased, lifting my brows as I placed a fork-full of raspberry-chocolate brownie between my smirking lips.

"Of course not," Lydia let out a tinkling laugh as she elegantly waved a hand around dismissively. "I'd just say it to your face. Just like if you weren't already so skinny I'd warn how all that sugar's just going to go straight to your hips."

While Allison quietly choked on her drink at Lydia's words I chortled and my reply was genuine when I told her, "That's what I like about you Lydia – you're honest. I appreciate that in a friend. That, and blind loyalty and the ability to help me hide a dead body." While she smiled sweetly back at me as I ate an extra large piece of my brownie, taking the compliments for what they were, I added, "Also I prefer to seize the moment, because tomorrow I might be dead. I don't want my last thought to be 'I wish I'd had a damn chocolate brownie'. Besides," I shrugged, "it's got raspberries in it – last I checked they were a fruit.

"I don't think they were referring to dessert when the phrase 'carpe diem' was coined," Allison interjected with a sweet smile.

I frowned at her, purposely misinterpreting what she meant, "Fish of the day?"

"Cute," Lydia tilted her head to the side.

I shrugged and beamed beatifically at the pair of them, "Thanks, I try."

Allison leaned close to me, a conspiratorial smile brightening her Snow White-esque features, "The barista has been looking at you the whole time we've been here."

"Me?" I asked in disbelief. "You sure it's not Lydia?" I gestured across to the perfectly put together redhead who had somehow not managed to smudge her lipstick one little bit.

"Pretty sure," Allison winked at me. "He's cute."

Peeking discretely to my left, I awkwardly managed to make eye-contact with the barista in question as he stood behind the coffee machine – the one thing I was hoping __not__ to do – and turned away as my face began to warm in embarrassment at the soft smile he aimed towards me.

"Allison!" I gasped in mock-disappointment, in an attempt to shake off my embarrassment and get the attention off of myself. "What about Scott? Are you so fickle that some pretty boy with perfect hair, big blue eyes, and a gorgeous smile is enough to distract you from your apparent One True Love?"

"Perfect hair, huh?" Allison replied with a teasing smile.

"Big blue eyes?" Lydia chimed in with a raised eyebrow.

"Gorgeous smile?" Allison continued, looking disgustingly pleased with herself.

"Oh shut up!" I rolled my eyes at the smug looks on their faces. "So he's cute – so what? So he may be looking at me, it doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it doesn't," Lydia said lightly and I shot a grateful smile in her direction, until she smiled in a way reminiscent of the sharks in Finding Nemo. "Because why have barista-boy when you have Derek? I would definitely be interested in what he's hiding beneath all that leather and broodiness."

"Lydia!" I squealed – something I am not proud of – and buried my now burning face in my hands. "I told you," my voice was muffled as I peeked out at the proud smirk on her face from between my fingers. "Derek __isn't my boyfriend__. He's..." I struggled to think up a suitable role for Derek in my life, and after remembering my conversation with Kevin earlier settled on – "He's like my brother."

"Well," Allison grinned at me, nudging me with her elbow. "Then there's nothing stopping you from giving barista-boy your number then."

"Uh, yes there is," I told her as I held up the plastic cup my ice tea was in and waved it in her face, watching her eyes travel over the scrawled black marker on the side. "There's the fact that I panicked and told him my name is 'Gwen Stacy'. Because I am completely mentally deficient."

It was true. He was really cute. And when he had taken my order I had gotten maybe a teensy bit flustered by the way he was smiling at me and blurted out Gwen Stacy when he asked for my name. And the way that he smirked at me told me right away that he knew exactly who 'Gwen Stacy' was and that he knew she definitely wasn't me.

"So?" Allison shot back as she clasped her hands beneath her chin. "It'll make for a cute first meeting story."

Lydia nodded her agreement, though still commented, "Jackson's right though, you are such a geek."

I alternated pointing a finger at each of them with narrowed eyes, "This isn't happening. Barista boy is not happening. Do you know what is happening? Sign-making!" I really was that desperate to change the subject. "We should be off doing that, shouldn't we? I mean, Lydia's got to make one for Jackson, I've got to make one for Danny and..." I felt guilty for throwing Allison under the bus to get the attention off of me for all of five seconds, until I remembered it was her fault I was the topic of conversation to begin with. "...Allison needs to make one for Scott!"

My words had the desired reaction as Allison gaped at me in betrayal while Lydia stared at her with something akin to offended shock.

"No," Lydia stated firmly. "Absolutely not. You know that Scott is still persona non grata for us."

Taking in the frustrated set of Allison's mouth and jaw I intervened – it was only fair I supposed since I'd set this mess into motion and besides Scott was a pretty nice guy and didn't deserve to be punished like this. "Lydia," I said, waiting for her attention to be on me before continuing. "Jackson's okay. I'm pretty sure we can cut Scott some slack. Allison's doesn't need your permission to make him a sign if she wants to. Which I totally get since he's her almost-something. Look, we can even hold up Jackson's sign first, then Danny's, then save Scott's for last in case he's under the delusion that you like him."

Mollified, Lydia retorted with a roll of her large green eyes, "Fine. But you're right – it doesn't mean I like him."

"Good," I smiled sweetly at her. "Because the only person who's opinion matters when it comes to Scott McCall is Allison."

Allison shot me a grateful look from beneath her lashes and I smiled back at her as Lydia huffed at my words. Meanwhile I was proud of Lydia – this was progress.

The Spiderman theme-song played loudly from my phone, attracting the attention of 70% of the coffee-shop – including barista-boy. Eyeing the screen I clenched my jaw as Stiles' name flashed across the screen. It may have been over an hour since my phone-call with Derek, but I still wasn't completely happy with Scott and Stiles over that particular bright idea of theirs. And I was also almost positive that having Derek arrested would have been Stiles' suggestion. I let the call ring out, ignoring the curious looks Lydia and Allison were sending me.

And then he called again.

Pushing down my annoyance on the off-chance that Stiles was calling me because his life was in danger like I told him to, I made a weak excuse to Lydia and Allison before disappearing into the bathroom so I could have the conversation in private.

"What?" I demanded after locking the door behind me, not bothering to hide my annoyance with the twitchy boy who needed to get over his attitude toward Derek pronto.

After a brief pause, Stiles belligerently replied, " _ _I guess you've talked to Derek then.__ "

"You got him thrown in jail and he has no family! Who'd you think he'd call?" I whisper-shouted at him before sarcastically adding, "Freaking Ghost-Nappa?"

His end of the line was silent and after a moment of waiting I got fed up and cut him off as he finally decided to make a contribution to the conversation, "Look, Stilinski, I gotta say you don't sound as though you're in mortal peril – so get to the part where you tell me what you want."

" _ _It's Scott,"__ He started and again I cut him off.

"What about Scott?" I spoke fast as a million different scenarios flashed through my head, every one of them involving Scott McCall being in a different life-or-death situation that all seemed to be straight out of a James Bond film. Shaking away the image of him being tortured for information by Russian mobsters I asked, "What's happened?"

" _ _Nice to know you're concerned about Scott,"__ Stiles grumbled quietly before he started to sound a bit more frantic as he remembered why he'd called to begin with. __"Look, when we were at Derek's – yes, I know, please just let me finish – he had this girl buried beneath some wolfsbane that kept her in wolf form. Long story short – I kept the wolfsbane, it made Scott freak out, and I've been driving around for the last freaking hour trying to find him!"__

Leaning back against the sink I looked at the door and sighed. What happened to a fun girly afternoon doing girly things with my girl friends? Instead I've got a freaked out teen wolf running around town.

" _ _Look, just tell me where you are and I'll pick you up,"__ Stiles continued. __"I know you're not home, but you need to help me."__

Eyes wide I glanced around the empty bathroom as though I expected him to pop out from behind the cistern and slowly asked, "How do you know I'm not home?"

I could almost _ _feel__ him rolling his eyes through the phone. __"Do you usually answer the phone while you're in the bathroom?"__ He asked sarcastically and I swore I could feel the force of his eye-roll through the phone. __"Either that or you're in a cave."__

"You are creepily observant – you know that?" I told him. "And I'm sorry, but I can't go gallivanting around town with you – I have plans. Girl plans. __Normal__ plans. Plans that are of the fun. Plans that don't involve playing hide-and-seek with werewolves."

" _ _Are-you-at-Lydia's?"__ In his eagerness he managed to slur his words together. __"Because I can be there in – like – 10 minutes – tops."__

It was time to make a decision. What are you going to do Fred? Pretend you're a normal girl for the afternoon or do your duty as a slayer and track down Scott?

In a non-characteristic bout of selfishness, I found myself saying, "No, Stiles. Scott's probably just running around the woods chasing squirrels or something. He'll show up when he wants to be found."

" _ _Seriously?!"__ Stiles predictably shouted, making me move the phone away from my ear slightly. __"You're not going to help?"__

"Go home, Stilinski," I urged him. "Get ready for the game tonight. From what I know about wolfsbane it's like the poison-oak of the werewolf world in small doses, so he's not dead or anything – probably just kinda itchy. If I see him, you'll be the first to know, Scouts Honor."

" _ _Fine,"__ Stiles answered grumpily and I could picture him pouting at the phone with his brow furrowed in frustration before he ended the call.

"So," I said enthusiastically as I approached Lydia and Allison, pushing down the slight guilt coiling in my stomach at not helping Stiles find Scott. "Who's ready to make some signs? Go team go!"

Leaving the cafe I looked back and caught the eye of barista-boy again, smiling shyly before ducking my head.

Guess he could just be an almost-something as well.

* * *

 _ _I found Scott. Allison's dad just hit him with his car :O - Fred.__

I'd barely sent the text before my phone beeped with Stiles' reply.

 _ _Is heO k? - Stiles.__

 _ _The car didn't kill him. But Allison's dad might if they don't stop making 3 eyes at each other :/ - Fred.__

 _ _Wait there I'll come get him. - Stiles.__

 _ _No need – I'll get him to the game. Alive. See you there =) - Fred.__

I tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Papa Argent declare that he'd be coming to the game tonight as well – chaperoning his daughter apparently. It was enough to distract me from wondering if Stiles was the sort of person to appreciate emoji's or not.

I had recognized Papa Argent as the lead hunter from the night of the full moon as soon as I'd laid eyes on him, and judging by the looks Scott kept sending him I wasn't the only one. The tension was thick between the two of them, though on Allison's fathers side I was sure it was less because he recognized Scott as the werewolf he had pinned to a tree and more because he was the boy his daughter had a crush on. The boy who __wouldn't stop gazing at her with lovesick hearts in his eyes.__

"I guess we'll see you there, Mr Argent," I beamed up at him as I wrapped my hand around Scott's arm and began to lead him over towards where Lydia was sitting in her car obliviously taking selfies. "Bye Allison!" I called as I pulled open the back-door and pushed Scott inside before jumping into the front seat myself and pulling on my seat-belt.

Outside the car a bewildered Allison raised her hand in a wave while her father stared at us with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. It was definitely an 'I'm going to get my gun' expression, and I hoped it was caused more by seeing a teenage boy and not a teenage werewolf.

"Why," I turned to see Lydia staring pointedly at me with her brows raised. "Is Scott-Freaking-McCall in my car?"

"I'm giving him a ride to the game," I explained. "And you are giving me a ride back to my house because you are just the best person ever."

Turning back to look out the windscreen with a huff and pout to let me know she wasn't happy about the situation, Lydia turned up the music so that some bubblegum Top 40 pop-song blasted from the speakers loud enough to deter the very notion of conversation and pulled out onto the road.

Kevin's car was back in the driveway when Lydia pulled up outside ten minutes later, so I assumed he had been successful in springing Derek from the long arm of the law. Ushering a still stunned Scott out of the car, I promised to meet up with Lydia at the game and told her to make sure to bring all __three__ of the signs we'd made today or there would be consequences. She rolled her eyes at my attempt at intimidating her and reminded Scott not to mess up tonight, cryptically adding "or else you know what will happen."

Turning to face a pale-faced Scott I considered asking what she meant before telling him, "You know what? I don't even want to know. Come on."

I lead the way up the front walk-way while Scott trailed behind me silently, his eyes roaming over the two-story yellow house Kevin and I called home. Kevin's favourite colour was yellow. Not surprisingly his favourite fruit were bananas. I made a mental note to put aside some time for gardening tomorrow as I saw the weeds sprinkled between the herbs planted along the front porch.

"Kevin!" I called through the front door, scooping up his car keys from the bowl we kept on the side-table just inside the foyer.

"Yes?" His head popped through the entrance to the living-room and he raised his eyebrows when he saw Scott awkwardly hovering behind me in the door-way.

"I'm just going to run Scott home," I said, spinning the keys around one finger. "That okay?"

"Yeah, of course," He looked suddenly hopeful. "Does this mean I don't need to go to the game tonight?"

I pretended to look thoughtful for a moment before sweetly replying, "No. If I need to suffer the boredom, you can suffer with me. Plus, Allison's father is going and you two haven't met yet."

Pouting, Kevin disappeared back into the living-room calling behind him, "Just remember we have a dinner guest tonight!"

Grinning, taking that to mean Kevin had gotten Derek sprung, I led Scott back outside and herded him into the Mini. "You know, Scott," I teased as I adjusted the seat and mirrors to suit my much smaller stature and waited for him to get settled. "You're starting to make me feel like a soccer mom."

Putting the car in reverse I began to let the clutch out enough to make the car slowly start to roll backwards, "So," I asked a still silent Scott. "Am I taking you home or straight to the school?"

We were idling at the foot of the drive-way while I waited to hear if I was turning left or right. The setting sun cast everything outside in bright fiery gold, but the inside of the car was filled with shadows making Scott's expression unreadable while he stared down at his lap. At least he had put his seat-belt on.

After waiting just long enough to make the silence awkward, Scott looked up and eyed me with a furrowed brow and those brown eyes filled with confusion. "Why are you helping me?" He demanded not unkindly. "I mean, why do you keep helping me? You're __always__ there. Whenever something happens you're just...there. Why me?"

Sighing, I dropped my head so it rested against the steering wheel while I gathered my thoughts. I really didn't want to get into everything right now. We simply didn't have the time. Scott had a lacrosse game to play, and I had a hunter to try and distract during it in case Scott decided to wolf-out.

"Because it's my job," My voice was muffled behind my fall of hair as I essentially addressed my lap. "It's my fault that you're a werewolf and I'm trying to make it up to you."

"... _ _your__ fault?" Scott's voice was laced with confusion. "The way I remember it, you tackled the thing that bit me in order to get it off me. You tried to save me."

"Tried being the operative word!" I lifted my head to stare at him in disbelief until I remembered the time and the stupid boring lacrosse game and middle-aged hunters and the terrifying prospect of making Lydia angry by not showing up. I figured it said a lot about me that Lydia Martin scared me more than an Alpha werewolf did. "Look, am I taking you home or to the school?"

Scott looked as though he wanted to argue the point some more, but he must have seen something in my expression because he instead said, "My lacrosse gear's at home."

"Okay," I pulled out onto the street and shifted gears, heading left. "McCall residence, coming right up."

After a few moments of silence Scott piped up, "Allison isn't just giving me a second chance out of pity, is she?"

I had to stop myself from laughing, "No Scott, why would you even think that?"

He squirmed in his seat slightly before muttering, "Because on our first date I bailed like some kind of freak."

"Well, yes, that was kind of wiggy of you." I conceded with a teasing grin his way.

"And then I may have freaked her out at school the other day about Derek," He continued before letting out a loud groan and dragging his hand down his face. "I am such a freak."

"Do you not think you're good enough for her?" I asked gently, glancing at him when he stayed silent to see him nodding reluctantly. "Why?"

I was genuinely baffled. Scott was a really nice guy who obviously cared a lot for Allison. He was sweet, and kind, and while a little oblivious he was by no means stupid. Not to mention he was certainly attractive enough to have his own show on Disney Channel at least. Just because he wasn't a rich douchebag like Jackson didn't mean he wasn't worth anyone's time. I found myself growing angry at whatever had caused his self-esteem to be so low, because he didn't deserve it.

"Because I'm a freak now!" Scott burst out, clenching his fists in his lap. "But if it wasn't for the Bite, she wouldn't have even noticed me anyway. I wasn't popular, I wasn't good at lacrosse, I wasn't anything."

"You, Scott McCall," I informed him sternly. "Are not __nothing__. And you never were. So what that you weren't popular or that lacrosse made you a little wheezy? None of that matters to Allison anyway. She likes you because you were the cute boy who gave her a pen and noticed her on her first day of school."

"Really?" Scott peered hopefully at me from beneath his messy bangs and the expression on my face softened.

"Really really," I replied before continuing conversationally. "This is all about fear, Scott. But you can't let fear control you. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to anger – no, wait, hold on," I thought a moment before continuing. "Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side. No, that's not right either. You know, right now, I'm pretty darn happy that you haven't seen Star Wars, because then you'd realise just how much I've butchered that quote."

Scott stared at me for a moment before bursting out into laughter, laughter I happily joined in with. We came to a stop outside his house and I put the car in neutral and pulled the hand-brake before grabbing one of his hands and squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "The thing is – you're Scott McCall. All-round-nice-guy and soon-to-be lacrosse star," I made sure to maintain eye-contact in the hopes that something I said would stick. "It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks, the only person whose opinion matters is yours. Not Lydia, not Jackson, you."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Scott replied sincerely, grinning softly over at me.

"Yeah, sorry," I made a face. "I kind of turned into a walking Hallmark card for a minute there."

"I liked your pep-talk," He admitted, before scowling. "It was better than Derek's anyway. He just tried to threaten me out of playing tonight."

"That why you got him arrested?" I asked archly, raising one eyebrow to let him know that while I thought he was a nice guy I wasn't happy with him on that account.  
At least he had the grace to look a little ashamed of his actions as he muttered defensively, "Stiles thought it was a good idea as well."

"You can't just go around trying to get everyone who tells you something you don't want to hear arrested," I exclaimed. "And for what it's worth, I do kind of agree with Derek – you shouldn't be playing until you've learned how to control your wolf."

"What happened to no ones opinion matters but mine?" Scott shot back.

"Because unlike Derek, I know that if someone tells me not to do something it makes me want to do it even more," I retorted. "And I'm pretty sure that's a teenage-thing and not just a me-thing. So I'm wanting you to go into this calm and with a clear head."

Sighing again and wondering if I should try and find a __Teenage Werewolves For Dummies__ book online I added, "Look, Scott, I don't want to fight with you. I'm just really worried – like super worried. Allison's dad is going to be there watching tonight – and he knows there's a wolf your age running about. I just don't want you to do something on the field that's going to get you killed off of it."

"I won't!" He protested fervently. "I __need__ to play tonight."

"Okay then," I shrugged.

"That's it?"

"That's it," I confirmed. "I'm your friend, Scott. Not your mom. I've told you what I think you should do, it's up to you what you do next."

"Uh, thanks," He opened the door and climbed out. "And thanks for the ride."

"Oh, Scott," I called as he started to close the door and he ducked down to look at me. "Keep an eye out in the stands tonight, 'kay?"

"Uh, okay," He replied before shutting the door and raising a hand in farewell and waiting for me to take off before making his way inside his house.

Well, Fred, that could've gone a lot worse.

* * *

I hadn't been far off in my jokes about missing a lacrosse game being unheard of in Beacon Hills. The stands were packed by the time Kevin and I arrived at the game, and we were still 10 minutes early.

We ran into Lydia as she was walking off the pitch back towards the stands and she linked her arm in mine and practically dragged me up to where Allison was sitting with her father, Kevin trailing helplessly behind us.

"Where have you been!" Lydia demanded. "You're lucky we managed to save you seats."

"Yeah, thanks Lydia," I replied distractedly as Allison waved at me and I waved back.

We ended up sandwiched between Mr Argent and Kevin with Lydia between Allison and I, the signs we had made earlier propped up at our feet.

"Oh!" Allison exclaimed after a minute of us all sitting in awkward silence. "Dad, this is Fred's uncle – Mr Jones. He's also our librarian."

Both men stood and managed to shake hands across us three girls without losing balance, something I was impressed with on Kevin's part at least.

"Call me Chris," Mr Argent said with an easy smile on his face that made him much more attractive in a silver-fox kind of way beneath the scattering of stubble covering the bottom half of his face. He had pale blue eyes that were just that little bit too sharp to be considered anything other than icy, but I could still imagine that he would've had his pick of the girls back in the day.

"Just Kevin for me – Mr Jones is – was – my father," Kevin attempted to joke before running his hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his.

"Fair enough," Papa Argent accepted with a nod of his head. "And you're the librarian here? Allison mentioned that you and Fred had only recently moved to Beacon Hills."

"That would be correct," Kevin confirmed. "After our stay in Scotland we decided we wanted to come back to California, but San Francisco is just that little bit too busy for us anymore. But what brings your family to Beacon Hills?" He asked, moving the attention off our back-story and onto the Argent's instead. "Your family are new-comers here too, yeah?"

"That's right. Because of my job we have to travel around a lot, but Allison handles it like a champ – don't you sweetheart?" He wrapped an arm around Allison and pulled her close to his side. "My company supplies weaponry and ammunition for law enforcement agencies, and unfortunately once a contract runs out we've got to go to where the next one is. I'm hoping Beacon Hills might be our last stop for a while though."

Kevin was saved from having to think of a reply thanks to Lydia squealing and ordering us to pay attention as the game began. Sharing a look with Kevin expressing how painful we were both going to find the experience I snuggled down into my leather jacket, my red woolen scarf pulled up over my nose. Even though Californian winter had nothing on Scottish winter, it was still chilly enough that I was glad I was wearing thick black leggings beneath my tartan dress and gray woolen socks with my hunting boots.

"I'll admit I'm not entirely clear on the rules," Kevin said to me lowly. "But am I correct in saying that those boys are purposely not passing to Scott?"

With narrowed eyes I watched Jackson blatantly shoulder-check Scott in order to steal the ball off of his own team-mate and even though he scored a goal I refused to cheer on principal. Not even quavering beneath Lydia's disapproving gaze. What Jackson was doing was a dick move – even for him.

"You would be correct," I replied through gritted teeth.

"Sign time!" Lydia sang gleefully as she tugged Allison and I to our feet, making us hold the ' _ _We Luv U Jackson'__ sign up in the air – even if it was a little lopsided with our height differences.

Once the cheering had died down Lydia allowed us to lower the sign, which I purposely placed at the back of the pile leaving my one for Danny in the front. I was impressed to find the one Allison had made for Scott was behind it, and I was happy to have confirmation that Lydia wasn't quite the bitch she liked to portray herself to be.

"So, which one is Scott?" Papa Argent asked Allison.

"He's the only one that hasn't caught a single ball so far," Lydia answered for her with a vicious smirk.

"That's because Jackson isn't letting anyone pass to him," I pointed out angrily. "It's not Scott's fault his team captain is being a little shit."

Ignoring the shocked looks on everyone's faces at my language – except for Kevin who just kind of nodded in agreement – I grabbed Allison's sign and thrust it into the other girls hands, "I think Scott could use the encouragement more than Jackson right now, don't you?"

Allison was grinning at me as she stood and held the sign as high as she could manage, and standing on my tiptoes I sucked in a deep breath before shouting as loud as I could, "You can do it McCall!"

"Go Scott!" Allison joined in, a blush darkening her cheeks and she let out a nervous giggle afterwards, glancing down at her dad self-consciously.

"Don't worry, Lydia," I comforted the pouting girl between us. "I don't expect you to do anything but suffer in silence."

Our shouting had drawn attention from both on and off the field, with Stiles gaping up at us from his place on the bench while Scott's head swung in our direction. I hoped the sign and encouragement would be enough motivation for Scott to keep his anger in check on the field. And I had no doubt that he was angry, because I knew if it were me I'd be down-right furious at Jackson's childish games.

We watched, stunned, as Scott once again employed acrobatics in his lacrosse offensive and actually jumped off of another players shoulders in order to catch the ball before anyone could stop him. I bounced in place as he effortlessly dodged and weaved his way across the field to finally score his first goal of the game, cheering loudly as I got caught up in the excitement and sharing a proud grin with Allison around a stubbornly silent Lydia.

After Coach Finstock shouted at the players on the field it looked as though Jackson's little power-play was over as the team stopped acting as though Scott didn't exist.

"He's getting too aggressive," Kevin muttered in my ear, and I had to admit he was right as I witnessed a player from the opposing team pass the ball to Scott in what could only be an act of fear.

"I need to use the bathroom," I declared. "I'll be back soon."

I rushed down the stands and threw a leg over the bench straddling it next to where Stiles was nervously gnawing on one of his gloves. He jumped when he noticed me, almost falling over in his shock and I had to suppress a giggle. "Scott's not handling it, is he?" I asked as I watched the boy in question with concern.

"No-no he's not," Stiles confirmed with a jerky nod, his leg was bouncing nervously and I had resist the urge to place a hand on his knee and still the movement.

Catching sight of dirty blonde hair and blue eyes filled with surprise staring at me over Stiles' shoulder I wiggled my fingers in greeting and said, "Hi Isaac – I didn't know you were on the lacrosse team."

"H-hi Fred," He stammered back.

"Focus!" Stiles interrupted as he sent a glare in Isaac's direction before claiming my attention again. "Is there anything you can do?" He leaned forward and lowered his voice in an effort to not be overheard by Isaac who was now staring at the two of us curiously. Not that I could blame him. "You know, if he goes full-wolf and tries to eat someone?"

"Nothing short of running out there and dragging him away," I shook my head in frustration. "And I'd rather save that as a last resort for both our sakes."

"Hey!" Coach Finstock's voice suddenly sounded loudly in my ear and I looked up in surprise. "You can't be here – players only!"

"What?" I pretended to be confused as I blinked innocently up at him. "This isn't the bathroom?"

"Does it look like a bathroom?" He retorted. "Go!"

"Alright, I'm going," I raised my hands in surrender and stood up, not missing the way Stiles' eyes followed the hem of my dress as I did so. Ugh, boys.

I backed away until I was half-hidden beside the stands and jumped at least a foot in the air when a hand landed heavily on my shoulder. I turned to find Derek smirking at me with his eyebrows raised and I scowled at him in response.

"You squeaked," He teased.

"How was prison?" I shot back, crossing my arms huffily. "Get any cool tattoos?"

"Cute," He deadpanned. "And thanks, for sending Kevin."

Shrugging nonchalantly I turned back to the game, keeping a close eye on Scott who was getting more and more aggressive in his playing. "Don't mention it. Scott's not doing too well, is he?" I worried my bottom lip with my teeth as I awaited Derek's answer.

"No," He confirmed. "He's already partially shifted. If it wasn't for the gloves and helmet everyone would see what he is."

We both watched as Scott stood half hunched over in front of the goal, his rapid breathing forming puffs of smoke in the air in front of him, as he struggled to get his anger under control. Derek and I shared a look before turning our attention back to Scott, both ready to rush out and drag him into the woods if necessary.

I was glad that it wasn't, as Scott finally took the shot and scored the winning point.

While everyone around us erupted into cheers and celebration I sagged in relief. That was until I saw a determined Allison rush past me in hot pursuit of Scott who had fled to the locker-rooms in what I assumed was an attempt to calm down.

Taking off after her I called back to Derek, "I'll see you back home for dinner!"

I got to the boys locker-room in time to see Stiles slip inside and after a moments deliberation decided to wait outside the door just in case Scott managed to stay in control. Stiles following them into Allison would probably just chalk up to the kid being weird and not all that aware of what boundaries were. If I were in there too it would most definitely damage whatever friendship we had managed to build so far. At least this way I could say I was keeping an eye out for her dad.

It wasn't long before a blushing Allison slipped out and smiled sheepishly as she saw me leaning against the wall opposite with a knowing smirk on my face. I pushed off and linked my arm through hers, steering her back towards the exit and her father.

"So?" I asked with a cheeky tongue-between-teeth grin.

"We kissed," She admitted with an excited giggle.

"Tongue?"

"Yeah."

"Nice."

* * *

 ** **A/N:****

 ** **Welcome to everyone who's liked and favourited since the last chapter. With this we say goodbye to Episode 2 and move on to Episode 3.****

 ** **As always, I'd appreciate knowing what you did and didn't like about this chapter. I know we saw a lot of Scott and the girls in this one. Episode 4 is only going to be the one chapter and then we move onto a lot more Stiles action in Episode 5. I did warn that it'd be a slow-burn haha****

 ** **Happy reading,****

 ** **-Susie Samurai****


	6. Slayer, comma, The - Google It

****Chapter Six - Slayer, comma, The – Google it****

 _ _Got a secret, can you keep it?__

 _ _Swear this one you'll save.__

 _ _Better lock it in your pocket,__

 _ _Taking this one to the grave.__

 _ _Secret/The Pierces__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

"Fred, wait!"

 _ _I came to a stop in the middle of the street, a spray of water lapping over feet and making my toes squelch inside the heeled mary-janes I was wearing. My wet hair stuck to my face and my once pretty yellow sundress clung to my body, goose-pimples prickling the skin of my arms as I wrapped them around my middle for comfort.__

"Please, look at me?"

 _ _I spun around, spreading my arms out as I demanded,__ "What? What more could you possibly have to say to me?"

"I love you!"

 _ _I took him in, standing there in the rain with his brown hair plastered to his forehead and his beautiful features painted with desperation. He had long since abandoned his suit jacket, leaving him in just a now see-through white Oxford that molded itself to every inch of him, his suspenders, and dark trousers. His blue eyes were filled with pain as they stared at me from a mere six feet away – pain caused from the knowledge that he had hurt me.__

"Please, don't run away from me – from us!"

 _ _I stood there in the rain, deliberating, before blinking water from my eyes and smiling softly,__ "You know I can't stay mad at you."

 _ _His face split into the most blinding, gorgeous smile I'd ever witnessed – the one he saved just for me – and he rushed towards me. Large hands wrapping around my waist he lifted me up into the air and spun me around while I clutched at his broad shoulders, both of us laughing gleefully. Gently, he lowered me until my feet touched the ground again and ducked his head so that our foreheads were pressed together.__

"I love you, Fred."

"I love you too, Zac."

 _ _Our noses brushed and my eyes swept closed as we slowly moved closer –__

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

– and I promptly sat bolt upright in bed, my flailing arms managing to knock the glass of water on my bed-side table onto the floor.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Untangling myself from my bedding I stumbled across my bedroom floor and walked out onto the landing yawning and grumbling about being interrupted __before__ getting to kiss Zac Efron. With my eyes barely open I got down the stairs without killing myself and assumed that the silence inside the house meant that Kevin was out.

As whoever was knocking at the front door started up again I pulled the door open, my mouth opened wide in a yawn as I ran a hand through my tangled hair. Blinking blearily I took in the sight of Scott McCall standing in front of me with his hand still raised mid-knock while Stiles stood next to him with his eyebrows raised and an amused smile twitching at his lips.

"You're at my house." I stated blankly.

"Yes." - "Yup." They both replied at the same time.

"You're at my house and I'm wearing my yummy sushi pajamas." I was suddenly self-conscious of the sushi-patterned pajamas I was wearing, even if they were long pants and pretty much covered everything.

"Yes, yes you are," Stiles replied with a smirk

I closed the door on both of their faces.

Barely a moment had passed before they were knocking again and I hastily ran my hands through my hair trying to tame the bed-head a bit while simultaneously trying to wake up. Why were they at my house? What did they want? Why did I answer the door in my pajamas?

"Fred!" Scott called through the door. "Please talk to us! Stiles promises not to say anything about your pajamas!"

"Hey!" I heard Stiles protest. "I do no such thing!"

" _ _Stiles!__ " Scott hissed at him from between his teeth.

"Fine!" Stiles yielded though it sounded like he was holding back laughter. "I promise not to say anything about your jammies!"

Rubbing the heels of my hands against my closed eyes I took a deep breath before straightening from where I was leaning against the door. I had a pretty good idea about why they were here, and I supposed that there was no time like the present to get the 'Slayer Talk' out of the way.

Alright Fred, just act cool. Pretend it doesn't even bother you that you're in your pajamas. Your pajamas are cute and nothing to be ashamed of. Even if you do currently look like a 12 year old, just remember that you're a 12 year old that could kick both their asses.

Yanking the door back open I glowered at the two of them and muttered, "Hurry up before I change my mind."

Pointing towards the living-room I said, "Wait for me in there. And don't touch anything," At the look on Stiles' face I added, "Seriously, you might accidentally summon a demon from the realm of musicals or something and become his child-bride. I'll be back soon."

I didn't have time for a shower, but I at least brushed my hair and teeth before throwing on a pair of worn skinny jeans and a comfy hoodie. Twisting my hair back out of my face, I slipped into the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal and grabbed a glass of orange juice then headed to where I'd left the boys in the living-room.

"Stiles!" I heard Scott hiss. "She said not to touch anything!"

"Pfft," Stiles scoffed. "She was just joking about that demon thing, Scotty. Don't be so gullible."

"Actually, I wasn't," I told him as I dropped down onto the large striped armchair next to the sofa Scott was sitting on. Stiles actually jumped as he jerked away from the book he had been inspecting and shoved his hands casually in his pockets, plastering a look of innocence over his features that he really needed to practice more. "It happened to some friends of mine. They were forced to sing and dance until they spontaneously combusted. Apparently it was pretty cool except for the whole possibility of burning to death and being some demon jazz-singers child queen."

"Well, thanks for that truly disturbing image that I'm sure will more than definitely manifest itself in the form of a nightmare," Stiles deadpanned as he dropped down onto the sofa next to Scott and started drumming his fingers against his legs.

"Look," Scott's big brown eyes locked with mine beseechingly. "Can you please just tell us what's going on? Why you're always around? How you know about werewolves and stuff? Because I have no freaking clue what's going on anymore."

Never mind torture tactics, all the government needed was to replicate Scott McCall's puppy-dog eyes and everyone would be tripping over themselves to confess regardless of whether they were guilty or not. Damn those eyes, damn them to heck.

"Let's start easy," Stiles suggested. "What are you? Because normal humans girls can't outrun a car or tackle a giant wolf-man-thing. And you've already said you're not a werewolf – so what are you then?"

"A normal human boy couldn't outrun a car either," I snidely replied before shoving a spoon-full of lucky charms in my mouth and aggressively chewing as he narrowed his eyes at me in response. Swallowing, I said, "And I am __human__ , for the record. I'm...well, I'm a Vampire Slayer."

Silence. Just absolute silence from both of them. I honestly didn't believe it was possible.

After opening and closing his mouth for at least a minute and waving his hands around Stiles managed to choke out, "I'm sorry...you're-uh-you're a __what?__ "

"I'm a Slayer," I repeated and was only answered with blank stares. " _ _Slay-__ er. One of the Chosen. Slayer, comma, The – Google it. Actually, don't Google it. I don't want to know what Andrew's spread over the internet about us. That documentary was bad enough the first time."

Ugh, just remembering it was enough to give me second-hand embarrassment for everyone involved on top of my own. ' _ _Buffy, the Slayer of the Vampyr'__ – it was, like, Twilight level bad.

"So," Stiles said slowly with his brow crinkled in thought. "You're __Fred the__ __Vampire Slayer__?"

"Ugh," I groaned. "Don't say it like __that__ – I sound like some kind of action-hero from the nineties."

Scott meanwhile was looking at his lap and repeatedly mouthing something to himself in increasing degrees of horror until he finally looked up and exclaimed, " _ _Vampires?"__

"You're a werewolf but the existence of vampires is a bit of a stretch?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, to be completely fair," Stiles pointed out as he started to get over his own disbelief at the existence of vampires and slayers of such, curiosity winning out over joining Scott in his mini-freak out. "I'm pretty sure he's still in denial over the whole werewolf thing."

"That's, uh, understandable I guess," I replied in an effort to be tactful of Scott's apparent sensitivity about anything potentially supernatural. I was almost scared to think of what his reaction would be when he learned about witches and multiple deities. "I almost reported Kevin to the cops when he told me I was pre-destined to run around stabbing the undead with pieces of wood."

Seriously though, who thought it was a good idea for Watchers to just pop up and tell Potentials 'Hey, it looks like you're enjoying the start of 8th Grade. By the way, I need to train you to slay what you think is a fictional creature on the off-chance the current Slayer dies and you're Called'? Kevin's lucky all I did was run away after calling him a nut-job because I'd run out of mace.

"It's just..." Scott was still looking a bit wild-eyed and his voice was strained. "Vampires? Like, actual real-life vampires?"

"Uh-huh," I said around a mouthful of cereal. "Though if it makes you feel any better, there aren't any in Beacon Hills. I've actually been able to get a solid 7 hours sleep a night around patrols. At first, it was a little disorientating because it's, like, twice as much as I would usually get but I've gotta admit I'm really starting to enjoy it."

"That," Scott admitted as he finally began to process everything and calm down. "That's actually surprisingly comforting."

"I'm glad my sleeping schedule has that effect on you, Scott."

"I meant the vampires," Scott explained while I gazed at him with my brows raised. After an amused noise from Stiles, realisation dawned on his face and he muttered, "Oh, you were joking."

Meet Scott McCall everybody – actual cinnamon roll.

"Right, so, you're a Slayer – a __vampire__ slayer," Stiles nodded knowingly then blurted out, "and what the Hell does that mean?"

"I'm a Slayer, a Slayer hunts vampires, don't tell anyone," I smirked at him, watching the frustration grow on his face before relenting. "Alright, think of Slayers like Captain America. Only instead of being created to fight Nazi's, it was to save a bunch of scared old men who couldn't hold back the hordes of Hell themselves."

I grinned, happy with my explanation and proud of managing to squeeze a comic-book reference into it, and shoved another spoonful of cereal in my mouth as a reward. Double-reward, that particular spoonful was at least 60% marshmallow. "I'm still human – just better."

"Why you? How many Slayers are there? How do you become a Slayer? Is it like becoming a werewolf? What powers do you have exactly?" Stiles delivered his questions rapidly as he eagerly leaned forward and waved his hands excitedly while Scott nodded along with him.

Why did I think this would be easy? Why? This was the kid who worked out that his best friend was a werewolf and checked out at least 10 books to confirm it – including the Twilight Saga. Of course he wouldn't be satisfied with the easy and sort of vague answer. Where was Kevin? He was the much better option to educate the two of them on the supernatural – he had improved a lot since our first disastrous encounter.

"Why me? I ask myself that question every day," I began answering the questions in sequence of having been asked as efficiently as I could. "Nobody really knows, just some mystical whooziwotsit from the PTB we guess. Last I counted there were 3002 active Slayers, there could be more but with the Watchers Council being a pile of rubble somewhere in England it's kinda hard to keep track of who all the Potential's were. And no, becoming a Slayer is __not__ like becoming a werewolf. Being a Slayer is a... _ _divine calling__. Being a werewolf is the result of an infection – sorry Scott," I smiled sympathetically in the boy's direction and he grimaced back at me. "As for what powers I have – I guess you guys will just have to wait and see, won't you?"

I figured it was safer for them not to know the full extent of what I was capable of. It wasn't that I didn't trust either of them, but more that it was probably safer for everyone involved if I stayed the wild-card. And it definitely worked in my favour if they managed to dream up a whole plethora of super-powers that I __could__ have – nothing like having the power of imagination on your side.

It would give any threats I had to deliver a lot more oomph if they didn't know if I was lying or not.

"So it's an infection?" Scott had grabbed onto what I'd said about lycanthropy and was holding tight with both hands like a drowning man. "Doesn't that mean there's a cure?"

I felt my heart break a little as I gazed sadly at Scott, desperation emanating from every inch of him as he leaned towards me. His hands tightly clasped between his knees, the knuckles turning white. His eyes wide and unblinking and filled with the tiniest bit of hope that I had an answer. I didn't want to be the one to snuff that light out – I was carrying enough guilt towards Scott McCall as it was.

'As," I started before dropping my gaze and moving the spoon around my empty cereal bowl, unable to handle watching Scott's face. "As far as we know, there is no cure. There's only learning to control it."

Again, there was silence. But instead of the air of astounded disbelief that came with the earlier bout of quietness, this one felt like defeated resignation.

An idea formed and I snapped my head back up, addressing Scott, "That being said – you guys are different to the werewolves we're used to. So maybe your infection is different. Have you talked to Derek about this?"

"Uh," Stiles piped up as he ran a hand over his head and fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't think your-uh-boyfriend's really gonna want to talk to us any time soon. Or-like-ever. Again."

"Oh my Gods! Derek is __not__ my boyfriend," I burst out. "Why does everyone keep thinking that?"

"Probably because you guys are always together?" Stiles retorted as he gestured towards me accusingly.

"Yeah, __hunting the Alpha__ ," I shot back. "Not macking in the back-seat of his car."

"Again, thanks for the mental image," Stiles said as he screwed up his face.

"No worries," I snidely shot back. "Put it in your spank-bank and never speak of it again."

Face flushing, and mouth opening wide to no doubt expel some cutting retort, Stiles was cut off by Scott.

"You really think we can trust Derek?"

Shaking off the residual annoyance I was feeling towards Stiles and his smart mouth, I looked at Scott and shrugged, "I've given him at least 3 different opportunities to try and hurt me – and nothing. Not even in the woods that day you ran into us – it was the first time he'd met me and had determined me as a threat, but he decided to question me than straight up try to rip my throat out. Which is a lot more than I can say for some other people in this town." The look I gave him made certain he knew I was referencing Papa Argent that night in the woods, when he shot a teenage boy with a crossbow without warning. "Look, Derek's people skills are...rusty. But he's trying to do the right thing."

"People skills are-are __rusty!__ " Stiles spluttered. "The guy's certifiable!"

"He doesn't need to help you," I said bluntly. "He has absolutely no obligation to you. Either of you," I gestured between the two boys with my spoon while they both looked slightly taken aback by the stern tone of my voice – I'd slipped into Intense Slayer Mode without realising. "Derek wasn't the werewolf who bit you, Scott – that was the Alpha. And Derek didn't kill his sister, Stiles – that was the Alpha. Maybe the two of you should start concentrating on what the actual threat is, instead of running around accusing people who don't deserve it. And then getting them thrown in jail. I mean, you don't like Mr Harris – will he be next? What about Jackson? Neither of you are his biggest fan. People are innocent until proven guilty."

By the end of my speech, both boys were looking somewhat chastised. Scott moreso than Stiles, but that was to be expected. For whatever reason, that boy really had it in for Derek.

* * *

I didn't expect to walk into a crime-scene when I left for school this morning.

I weaved my way to the front of the group of kids huddled around the police-tape trying to get a good photo of the carnage on their phones to no doubt upload to instagram later. Eyes widening I took in the back of the bright yellow school-bus, the door twisted and ripped almost of its hinges and bright red blood smeared all around the opening. A light wind picked up and on it I could still catch the metallic tang of blood, meaning the blood on the outside was nothing compared to what was hidden inside the bus.

I had to get a closer look, but first there was a young volatile werewolf I needed to speak to.

Bursting through the front doors, it didn't take long to locate Scott and Stiles. I caught up to them just as they were rounding the corner to head towards Scott's locker.

"...I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I've woken up like that before." Scott was saying to Stiles.

"Really?" Stiles seemed genuinely surprised. "I have. Usually ends a little differently."

"A – I meant I'd never had a dream that felt that real before. And, B – never give me that much detail about you in bed again."

"Agreed!" I chimed in as I squeezed between the two of them, linking our arms together. "By the way, Stiles, I'll be sending you the bill for all the therapy your comment is going to cost me."

"Noted," Stiles deadpanned as he stared pointedly at our linked arms before glancing across me at Scott who just shrugged.

I decided to play it cool for now, instead of freaking Scott out in a hallway of teenagers with questions about nighttime school-bus massacres. Instead, I was using our linked arms as and opportunity to try and steer the two boys outside so if Scott did freak out I'd have an easier time containing him.

Letting out a huff of air, Stiles started, "Let me take a guess here –"

Cutting him off Scott said resignedly, "I-I know. You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow. Like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"No of course not!" Stiles protested while both Scott and I stared at him suspiciously until he broke and admitted, "Yeah, that's totally it."

Scott sighed, looking despondent and I squeezed his arm lightly with my own in sympathy.

"Hey, come on, it's gonna be fine – alright?" Stiles continued in an attempt to cheer his best friend up that I admired. "Personally, I think you're handling this pretty frickin' amazingly. You know? It's not like there's a...Lycanthropy For Beginners class you can take."

Well, actually...

"Yeah, not a class," Scott voiced my thoughts exactly. "But maybe a teacher."

"Who? Derek?!" Stiles demanded, unhooking his arm from mine and reaching over me to hit Scott upside the back of his head with a resounding smack. Giving him a warning glance I twisted his arm more firmly in mine to avoid any future dramatic abuse while Scott rubbed the abused area and looked at Stiles woundedly. "Did you forget the part where we got him tossed in jail? Yes," He huffily said to me, "it was stupid and rash and you think we're idiots."

I smiled, pleased that he seemed to have at least absorbed some of my talk from the day before.

"I know!" Scott said exasperatedly on my other side. "But chasing her and dragging her to the back of the bus felt so real."

"Her?" I questioned at the same time Stiles asked, "How real?"

"Like it actually happened," Scott answered as they opened a pair of double-doors and we stepped outside.

Right into the crime-scene.

I admit, I may have gotten distracted by the conversation and not exactly paid attention to where the boys had been heading. I was also going to use the excuse that it was only my third week at that school and how was I supposed to know where every door led to? Who was I – a frickin' cartographer?

Both boys stared in horror as the blood covered bus. We were closer than I was able to get to it before and I could see claw marks on the inside of the door – definitely werewolf related, in my opinion.

"I think it did." Stiles said in shock.

Taking in Scott's pale and kind of nauseated face, I couldn't help but wonder if it __was__ related to this particular werewolf. His wasn't the look of someone who had seen something terrible – it was of someone who had just had confirmed that they had __done__ something terrible. I needed to know more about this dream.

Scott rushed back inside, Stiles and I hot on his heels as he pulled his phone out and started rapidly texting someone.

"She's probably fine," Stiles said reassuringly.

"She's not answering my texts, Stiles," Scott replied desperately, working himself up.

It was about this time that I figured out the 'her' and 'she' was Allison. Of course. What other females would Scott be having freaky werewolf dreams about?

"It could just be a coincidence, alright?" Stiles continued trying to calm Scott down as he continued his search for Allison through the school halls of Beacon Hills. "A seriously amazing coincidence."

"There are two things I don't believe in," I finally decided to join the conversation. "Coincidence and leprechauns."

"Not. Helping." Stiles told me through gritted teeth.

"I wasn't finished!" I hissed back.

Scott didn't want to hear the rest of what I had to say though as he entered full-on melt-down mode and punched some poor kids locker. Noticing people giving the growling Scott a wide berth while eyeing the growls coming from him in curiosity I walked up to him and grabbed both of his wrists.

Pulling until he was at eye-level with me, I clearly said, "If you'll let me finish – in this case it is a coincidence. Because Allison is certainly not laying dead in that bus. Unless they have good calling-plans in the after-life because I talked to her before leaving for school today. Now – calm down."

Letting him go, Scott backed away slowly as he tried to process everything that had happened in the last 10 minutes. And that's when he bumped into Allison.

"Why didn't you just say Allison was alive to begin with?" Stiles demanded while Scott and Allison flirted with each other and essentially ignored the existence of anyone else on the planet.

"Because," I smirked up at him and tilted my head towards the locker Scott had dented. "That's Jackson locker, and I'm still annoyed with him over the stunt he pulled at the game."

As Stiles opened his mouth to reply, the schools PA system crackled to life and the tinny tones of our principal filtered through the halls:

" _ _Attention students – this is your principal. I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night involving one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you."__

Stiles and I shared a look of mutual disappointment over the news that we were expected to go to class like everything was fine.

"Fred!" I looked over just as Allison barreled into me, a wide grin on her face, hooking her arm through mine and proceeding to lead me away from the two dazed boys behind us. "Come on, I've been looking for you everywhere."

* * *

"Hi Isaac," I smiled as I slipped into my seat beside him in chemistry, placing my books on the table before dropping my messenger bag to the floor – wincing as I heard a distinctly metal clang from either Back-Up or my metal drink bottle and glancing around to make sure no one had noticed. No one had but Scott, who glanced across at me with raised eyebrows to which I shrugged noncommittally in response with what I hoped was an enigmatic look on my face.

"Hey Fred," Isaac replied, regaining my attention. "How was your weekend, did-did you enjoy the game?"

I had gotten lucky with Isaac as a chem partner. He always did his share of the work, had a dry sense of humor that I appreciated, and looked at my face instead of my chest – or lack thereof.

"It was of the good," I grinned at him. "Lacrosse is still pretty boring though – it's no football. I miss the aggression, the brute force, the tight pants..." He laughed, well aware of my feelings towards both football and lacrosse and thankfully taking my joke for what it was. "So? When am I gonna get to see your moves on the field?" I teased before playfully punching him in the upper-arm.

I noticed the way he flinched away from the blow a moment too late but sure as Hell didn't miss the way he winced once my fist made contact. I hadn't even punched him properly, I had honestly hit like a girl. "Are you okay?" I leaned forward, concerned.

"Y-yeah," He stuttered with a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, looking as though he was stopping himself from touching his arm. "Just got smacked pretty hard at p-practice the other day, ap-aparently it's still kinda tender."

I eyed him for a moment but decided not to pursue it, if he said it happened at practice then I'd believe him. I scrunched my eyebrows and jokingly asked, "Who was it? Want me to go beat them up?"

That managed to coax out the smile that made him absolutely adorable and he laughed, "Thanks for the offer, but it was just an accident."

I shrugged, "Your call, buddy – but don't say I never offered."

I quickly got distracted from the work-sheet we were doing by Scott and Stiles abysmal attempt at whispering to each other from across the aisle.

"Maybe it was my blood on the door?" Scott asked Stiles with a sort of desperate hopefulness.

"Could've been animal blood?" Stiles suggested, trying to ease his mind. "You know – maybe you caught a rabbit or something?"

"And did what?" Scott asked confusedly.

What do you think, Scott?

"...Ate it..."

"Raw?!" Scott was aghast.

"No," Stiles said. "You stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven."

I couldn't help the loud giggle that escaped me as I imagined Scott fully wolfed out sitting next to an easy-bake oven waiting for his rabbit to be done. Half the class turned to look at me as I intently studied the page in front of me and pretended to ignore them, out of the corner of my eye I could see Stiles smirking proudly at his joke.

"Miss Ackerman," Mr Harris intoned from the front of the class and I looked up at him. "Is there something funny you'd like to share with the class?"

Yeah, the fact that someone hired you to teach children – that's a joke in itself.

"Not particularly," I answered in a saccharine voice, before tacking on a "Sir" that sounded more like a "Fuck you". I tried to keep the smirk off of my face as I heard Isaac quietly snigger into his hand beside me.

Narrowing his eyes at me, Mr Harris decided to move onto an easier target:

"Mr Stilinski," He placed his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out, his voice superior as he addressed the younger boy. "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while."

Stiles made a choking scoffing noise that almost sounded like, "Wah?"

"I think you and Mr McCall could benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No." Stiles said, shocked that the man would even suggest it.

Not in the mood for it, Mr Harris just shook his head and gestured for the two of them to move. Grumbling, Scott moved to an empty spot up the front while Stiles slunk off to the seat directly behind me.

Looking over at Isaac I rolled my eyes at the dramatics of it all and he nodded back in agreement.

"Hey!" The girl next to Scott suddenly cried out, moving over to the window. "I think I saw something!"

Everyone rushed over to the window to peer out and I managed to navigate myself so I was standing between Scott and Stiles. Down below, two paramedics were wheeling a severely wounded man towards an ambulance. I raised an eyebrow – there was no way he could be mistaken for Allison Argent, and the idea of Scott 'sleep-hunting' made me uneasy.

"That's not a rabbit," Scott whispered, upset, to the two of us.

Both Stiles and I shared a worried look before our attention was drawn back to the scene below as the man suddenly awoke, screaming hysterically as he struggled against the paramedics and deputies trying to calm him down.

Scott backed away from the window breathing heavily with wide eyes and Stiles and I followed, flanking him on either side.

"This is good-this is good," Stiles said breathlessly in an attempt to be comforting, absently patting Scott on the back and arm. "He got up – he's not dead! Dead guys can't do that."

"Stiles," Scott said, horrified. "I did that."

"No you didn't," I told the taller boy firmly as I poked him in the ribs to get his attention. "Innocent until proven guilty – remember?"

I watched him nod at me, smiling weakly in agreement, but the look in his eyes said that he didn't believe me.

To be honest – I was having a little trouble believing me too.

* * *

Lydia was leading Allison and I towards Scott and Stiles' table – colour me surprised. Like, really surprised. So surprised.

While Lydia dropped down into the seat beside Scott with a deceivingly sweet smile, I watched with amusement as Stiles completely short-circuited, leaning across the table to whisper to Scott asking why we were sitting with them. I shared an amused look with Allison as she slipped into the seat on Scott's other side and I sat opposite her next to Stiles. Next came Danny on Stiles' other side and some lacrosse jock that I'd never bothered to learn the name of. Stiles seemed torn between being ecstatic at being in such close proximity with Lydia and the 'Popular Crowd' and being frustrated at not being able to discuss whatever werewolf stuff had been the topic of conversation before we'd arrived.

I felt for him, whatever Lydia had planned with sitting here was probably going to cause nothing but drama and potentially end badly. Not even 2 days ago I'd had to convince her just to let Allison make Scott a poster, and now she was initiating contact with him? Maybe she had thought Allison might like sitting with her 'almost-boyfriend'? I was shaken from my musing by Jackson's arrival:

"Get up."

"How come you never ask Danny to leave?" Lacrosse Jock Number 1 whined in a way that I had to say was severely unattractive.

"Because unlike you," Danny answered for him with a smug look on his face, waving his apple around for emphasis. "I don't stare at his girlfriends coin slot."

Stage exit right, Lacrosse Jock Number 1 – it was nice knowing you.

"So I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack," Danny said excitedly as he took a bite of his apple. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson said, interested despite the careless way he'd draped himself back in his chair.

A cougar is a mountain lion, dumbass.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia said shortly, staring down at her food. Obviously we were on the same wave-length. After noticing the strange look Jackson was giving her, she tilted her head and asked in an airy voice, "Isn't it?"

Really Lydia? I had to admit to feeling slightly disappointed that the girl was dumbing herself down, no matter the reason.

"Who cares?" Jackson continued to look at Lydia as though she had started talking Japanese. "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"And the award for most compassionate human being goes to..." I muttered under my breath.

Stiles snorted next to me then suddenly announced, "Actually, I just found out who it is – check it out."

He stretched his arm across the table, trying to angle it for everyone to be able to see. Leaning over, I quickly decided that it wasn't worth the crick in the neck and instead slid my chair so it was hard up against Stiles'. Resting my cheek against his shoulder I ignored the way he instantly tensed up and his sharp inhalation at my proximity. Poor boy, this was probably the most female contact he'd had outside of a family member in a while.

" _ _The Sheriffs department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirm the victim – Garrison Meyers – did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical-condition."__ The video showed graphic photo's of the torn up bus, and that Garrison Meyers had been an older man with kind eyes and a wide smile. Not exactly Little Red Riding Hood, but still plenty appealing to the Big Bad Wolf I guessed.

"I-I-I know this guy," Scott stuttered urgently.

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Scott elaborated, his voice still shaky. "When I used to take the bus b-back when we used to live with my dad. He was the driver." Scott stared over at Stiles and I, visibly upset, and I made a sympathetic face in return. He was gazing down at his hands when Lydia decided it was time for a subject change.

"Can we talk about something slightly more __fun__ please?" She asked. "Like...oh! Where are we going tomorrow night?"

My brows rose in amusement as Allison and Scott turned towards Lydia with matching looks of surprise and panic on their faces. Allison almost choking on the food she was currently in the middle of chewing.

"You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?" Lydia prompted.

Allison glanced over at me pleadingly with bulging chipmunk cheeks, but I only shrugged helplessly – I couldn't get her out of this mess. Turning to Scott she looked at him apologetically and swallowed her food before replying, "Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do?"

I tried to signal her with my eyes that that was the absolute __worst__ thing she could've said, but it was too late. Hurricane Lydia was already in motion and all that was left was to watch in morbid fascination.

"Well," Lydia huffed. "I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out – we're doing something fun."

"Hanging out?" Scott said, sounding understandably bewildered. He glanced down at Allison who had decided to conveniently start chugging at her water bottle and only smiled at him reassuringly while trying not to spit water everywhere. "The four of us?"

Turning towards Allison – who finally had nothing in her mouth – Scott asked warily, "Do you wanna hang out? Like us and...them?"

"Yeah?" Allison replied, sounding unsure but nodding a lot anyway. "I guess? Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson decided to join into the conversation now, brandishing his fork dramatically. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

Lydia grabbed at his hand, shooting him a look to stop being so dramatic. It was like a mother telling her child to play nice with the other kids.

"How about bowling? You love to bowl!" Lydia suggested in an attempt to coerce Jackson into making her double-date dreams come true.

Next to me, Stiles was aggressively shoving fries in his mouth.

"Yeah, with actual competition," Jackson said dismissively.

"How do you know we're not 'actual competition'?" Allison leaned forward to playfully ask around Scott. "You can bowl – right?" She asked Scott, the way she was looking at him he'd probably say he know how to do thermonuclear physics just to impress her.

"Sort of," Scott admitted. Only in this case, judging by the look on his face, 'sort of' meant 'I have no fucking clue what I'm doing'.

"Is it 'sort of', or 'yes'?" Jackson needled.

And Scott fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Yes," Scott shot back. "In fact, I'm a __great__ bowler."

Looking at Stiles, he confirmed with just his eyes that Scott was, in fact, a __terrible__ bowler.

"Fred!"

My head snapped towards Lydia and I automatically answered, "Yes?"

"You and Derek should come too," She smiled at me like she'd just come up with the best idea ever. "We could make it a real group thing."

What. The. Hell. This was not part of the plan. I was an observer of the Hurricane – not a victim. Abort, abort, abort.

"Uh, thanks for the invite," I said, smiling gratefully at her. "But Derek's not really into bowling. He's more of an...Ultimate Frisbee kinda guy."

I grinned as I heard Stiles suddenly start choking on whatever he'd just shoveled into his mouth at my dog reference while Scott narrowed his eyes in second-hand offense.

"Besides," I continued, not being swayed by her big green eyes or sad pout. "I told you and Allison on Saturday – he's not my boyfriend."

Why didn't anyone understand that? Did I need to get 'Not Dating Derek Hale' tattooed on my forehead?

Thankfully, that was the end of that, and Lydia proceeded to amuse herself with finalizing plans for the Double-Date Of Disaster with Allison while Scott looked more and more nauseous. I felt for him, I really did. Having your second-first-date get hijacked was right up there with Algebra and genital warts on the list of things that suck.

I had bigger things to worry about – like an Alpha werewolf with a taste for bus drivers.

* * *

 ** **A/N:****

 ** **Hi guys! Firstly, I just wanted to say a big thank you to EveWrites for the new cover for this fic - isn't that cool? She made me that!****

 ** **Also, to answer the guest reviewer's question about what would happen if the Alpha managed to 'turn' Fred at any point:****

 ** **Going by BTVS canon, where if a Slayer becomes a Vampire they still retain their Slayer power and are much stronger than 'normal' Vampires - I would say the same would apply to the werewolves in TW. So in my fic, if a Slayer were to be Bitten by an Alpha they would turn but even as a Beta they would be just as strong as an Alpha if not stronger. As for how strong Fred is, she's going to get a lot stronger as the story progresses, eventually being able to go toe-to-toe with an Alpha. I just didn't want her to come across too OP since she's only been a Slayer since September. So currently she is just as strong as Derek, and if she fought like a Slayer aiming to slay would more than likely come out on top but it wouldn't be an easy fight for her. Hope this answers your question =) And I've got something with Spike planned so stay tuned ;)****

 ** **And yes, it was a Veronica Mars reference at the beginning of the previous chapter =)****

 ** **Welcome to all my new readers, glad to have you along for the ride.****

 ** **Happy reading,****

 ** **-SusieSamurai****


	7. I'm Officially Over The Sufferage

****Chapter Seven – I'm Officially Over The Sufferage****

 _ _Every memory comes on,__

 _ _When I hear that old song,__

 _ _That we used to sing,__

 _ _With the words all wrong.__

 _ _Acadia/Marianas Trench__

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

"Where are we going?"

I cast an unimpressed look in Stiles' direction at the whining quality to his question and said, "To introduce you to Kevin."

Considering how much he enjoyed his research and how many questions he had regarding the supernatural, I'd figured he'd like to talk to someone who would be able to give him better answers than I could. And what did I get in return for my thoughtfulness? Attitude, that's what.

"Ackerman, I've already met your uncle – he's the librarian, remember?" Stiles said, tripping over his feet as I pulled him sharply around a corner that he tried to keep walking past.

"You've met Mr Jones – the librarian," I grinned up at him. "You haven't met Kevin Jones – the Watcher."

"What's a __Watcher__?" Stiles asked, curious despite himself.

"Slayers slay, Watchers...watch," I shrugged, smirking at my joke. "Watchers train slayers, they're meant to guide us, make sure we make good choices. Like which 17th century weapon would complete your outfit for prom, or pop quizzes on how the last 4 apocalypses were averted. The really nice ones even keep you company while you're waiting in the cemetery for an ancient prophecy to begin. You know, fun mentory stuff."

"How do you 'slay' a vampire, exactly?" Stiles asked, hands waving around in relation to his questions like a game of charades. "Like, is it like the movies? Stake to the heart, sunlight, fire?"

To be honest, I was impressed he had held out this long. I wondered if he had gone home and googled vampires after our chat yesterday? Was 'Edward Cullen' still the first thing to pop up when you typed 'vampire' into the search bar?

"Yeah, the movies got some things right," I replied, then started to list 'the usual' off ticking each one off on my fingers, "There's fire, beheading, sunshine, stake through the heart, delivering some home truths about how dated their style is."

"You-you're joking."

"No. Vampires really don't have any sense of style – and they're quite sensitive about it."

Rolling his eyes at my inability to take his question seriously he made an unimpressed noise in the back of his throat as we pushed through the double-doors and into the library.

I instantly jumped up onto the counter, rolling my eyes when I heard Kevin say behind me from his office, "Get off of the counter, love."

"Why do you always assume I'm on the counter, huh?" I called back, kicking my Ked-clad feet in front of me. "Maybe I'm not on the counter – why must you always jump to conclusions?"

"I didn't jump," Kevin said in my ear all of a sudden, making me almost fall off of said counter. "I merely took a step and there conclusions were."

"Oh," I drawled. "You're in a flippant mood – you know there's no living with you when you're like this? The Slayer quips, the Watcher sips tea and says 'oh bother' a lot." Apart from sighing at the poor British accent I affected Kevin remained silent but still smiled indulgently at me.

Leaning against a table Stiles watched us with raised brows, "Is quipping part of the job description?"

"Punning is a fundamental part of being a Slayer," I informed him solemnly. "It is the bedrock upon which our Divine Calling is formed." Widening my eyes dramatically I added, "In fact, if you're unable to call out witty taunts in the midst of battle, your Slayer status is stripped from you and you can't sit at the cool table anymore."

"Quit teasing the poor boy," Kevin chided, then turned his attention to Stiles. "Well, she finally let you in on the secret, eh? Dramatic one, she is."

"Does nobody understand the concept of a secret identity anymore?" I asked the room plaintively, casting my eyes towards the ceiling.

"Like I said," Kevin continued to address Stiles. "Dramatic."

Jumping down off of the counter I bounced on my toes and said, "Introductions! You two need to be introducted, I mean – intro _ _duced.__ Stiles, this is Kevin – when he gets excited he needs to make himself a cup of tea to calm down. Kevin, this is Stiles – he talks with his hands so you want to stand at least three feet away to avoid being accidentally smacked in the face."

Both of them gave me twin unimpressed looks. Despite the differences in their appearance, that look alone made them them look like they could be related.

"I've already heard the sales pitch before – chosen one, blah, vampires, blah, nonexistent social life, blah," I informed them and gestured towards a study table with my thumbs and a smile, "So if you need me, I'll be over here chilling like a villain."

Dropping my bag onto the table, I pulled out my books and decided to get started on my English homework – figuring I'd start with what I found easiest and work myself up to what really kicked my ass, math and chemistry. And bio. Pretty much all of the sciences could kiss my ass. There were too many 'ists' and 'isms' involved for my liking. And would calculus help me take down a vampire? Not very likely.

I kept half an ear out as Stiles and Kevin got their geek on. Kevin explaining to him how vampires had come to be, what the basic duties of a Slayer were, and the basics that we'd learned so far about werewolves from what Derek had shared and just pure observation. I think Kevin was excited to find someone who enjoyed learning about the wacky supernatural as much as he did. If Stiles gave Kevin something else to care about besides tea, books, obscure demonic rituals and, well, me – I had to admit that that made me happy too. I knew already that being a slayer was essentially a thankless job – you got paid in warm fuzzy feelings knowing that you were helping to make the world a safer place – but so was being a Watcher.

An hour later I was contemplating whether Mr Harris was secretly a demon, and if I could prove it would Kevin let me slay him. He enjoyed torturing his students way too much to be human. The man had to be evil. From some hell dimension of chemistry and sarcasm where they survived on the low self-esteem of teenagers.

"Hey Kevin," I called out, interrupting whatever he was currently discussing with Stiles and causing both of them to stare at me.

"Yeah?"

"Are there demons who specialize in chemistry and sarcasm with an appetite for low self-esteem?"

There was a brief pause before Kevin asked, "Am I right in assuming you're referring to Mr Harris?"

"The man's evil!" I burst out. "I bet he even irons his jeans!"

"You think Mr Harris is a demon?" Stiles questioned, quite eagerly if anyone was asking me. See! Stiles agreed with me on some level – demon.

"No," Kevin replied. "She's hoping he is."

"Do I even want to ask why?"

Sound sarcastic as much as you want, Stiles, I can still detect the hint of disappointment in your tone at his lack of demony status.

"Because then I can slay him and not have to do this stupid chemistry homework," I answered, barely suppressing the urge to add 'duh' on the end and roll my eyes at him. "If he's demon-evil, I can slay him. If he's just ordinary human-evil, then I have to continue to suffer. And I'm sick of suffering. The suffering sucks. I'm officially over the sufferage."

"Mr Harris is not a demon – I already checked," Kevin informed me. "So please refrain from slaying him."

"Only because you said please."

* * *

It was close to dinner time by the time Stiles had finally stopped discussing the supernatural with Kevin, and that was more because he had to go and organize dinner for his dad and less because he had satiated his thirst for knowledge. I think he might almost know more about being a Slayer than I did at this point. He had won brownie points by offering me a ride home, but since Kevin was planning on leaving as well it was unnecessary.

I was sitting snug on the couch next to Kevin with a bowl of popcorn nestled in my lap as we watched __Next Top Model__. He always grumbled and said he only watched it to keep me company, but I noticed the comments he made about the girls' photos and how he'd lean forward during a good cat-fight. Kevin enjoyed it just as much as I did – whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Denial's not just a river in Egypt, buddy.

It was the ad-break just before photo-reveal when my phone rang. Leaning forward I swiped it off of the coffee table and answered once I saw the Caller-ID.

"Hey Scott," I smiled. "This is a pretty late night call, I hope you know I'm not that sort of girl."

It wasn't late – especially by Slayer standards – but there was just something about making Scott flustered that made me warm inside.

As the line was silent I could almost picture him sitting there with his brow furrowed as he tried to decipher what my comment meant.

" _ _It's not that late...oh,"__ He eventually said before trailing off as he caught the meaning behind my words. _ _"I, uh, I know you're not. That's not why I'm calling. I went to speak with Derek and he said that it could help going back to the scene of...the bus – if I went back to the bus. With jogging my memory."__

"Sounds like a plan, Scotty," I praised, proud of him for going to Derek for help with little to no prompting on my part. "But why did you feel the need to call and tell me?"

" _ _We were kind of wondering if you wanted to come with us?"__ He asked hopefully.

I leaned my head back against the top of the sofa and took a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes. Of course he wanted me to go. Of course I needed to go. I was a slayer and this was a supernatural investigation – I needed to be involved. For no other reason than making sure the two boys didn't get caught by at worst the Alpha, and at best any security that might have been posted to the school following the attack.

Groaning, I dragged a hand down my face and asked, "How soon do you need me?"

" _ _We're, uh, actually in your drive-way,"__ Scott answered somewhat sheepishly.

Standing up I moved over to the window and twitched the curtain aside. Sure enough, there was Stiles' blue jeep next to the yellow mini.

"But it's almost photo-reveal," I whined, a pout Scott couldn't see forming on my lips.

Meet Fred Ackerman, everyone – actual five year old.

"Photo-reveal?" Scott was understandably bemused by my words, what teenage boy watches __America's Next Top Model?__

Moving to the front door, I pulled it open and beckoned to the two boys in the jeep and ended the call with Scott. They both hopped out of the car, matching looks of confusion on their faces.

"Hurry up," I insisted. "The ad-break's almost over. Your trip down memory-lane's waited this long – it can wait another fifteen minutes."

"It's back on, love!" Kevin called out.

Without a second thought I dashed back into the living-room and dropped back down next to Kevin, leaving it up to the boys to see themselves in. I took hardly any notice of the two of them shuffling awkwardly into the room, too engrossed in what Tyra was saying to my least favourite contestant about her photo. As Tyra gave her a good dose of not so constructive criticism I held a hand up for Kevin and we high-fived without taking our eyes off of the screen.

"Do we have to watch –"

I pelted Stiles with popcorn until he fell silent.

"Yes!" I squealed as the end credits for the show rolled, happy with the outcome as my least favourite contestant was voted off of the show, pumping my fists gleefully into the air. I ignored the sideways glances I was getting from the boys. "Ding dong, the bitch is gone!"

"Fred..." Kevin said warningly, addressing my use of the word 'bitch'.

"Sorry Kevin," I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "I meant 'witch'."

"Quite right," He agreed, gathering up the popcorn bowl and standing. "Well, I'm going to have a cup of tea. What exactly are the three of you off to do?"

I raised my eyes in Scott's direction, indicating that in this instance it was his turn to elaborate on exactly what 'jogging his memory' entailed.

"Uh," Scott began. "Derek said for me to go back to the bus and use all of my senses to try and remember what happened last night."

Cocking his head Kevin replied, "Makes sense. Sometimes we repress certain memories, but something as small as the feeling of something against our skin or a certain smell can be enough to help cut through the fog. Good luck then, let me know how it goes." Just before he exited the room he added over his shoulder, "And please, try your best not to get arrested. I think I've spent enough time down at the cells since moving to this town. Though, Stiles, your father's a good sort."

"Uh, thank you?" Stiles answered bemusedly, a frown furrowing his brow and twisting his lips.

"Okay," I announced. "Let me go slip into something a little more suitable for breaking and entering and we can go and get our delinquent on." I gestured towards the grey sweatpants and khaki shirt I was wearing.

As I started up the stairs I heard Stiles say to Scott, "I'm kinda disappointed – I hoped she'd be wearing her jammies again."

We pulled up not too far from the chain-link gate barring us from the back car-park of the school. In the half-light cast by the spot-lights dotted around the area it looked pretty deserted for the moment, and I held hope that we'd have enough time for Scott to do his wolfy mumbo-jumbo before security came along and found three students hanging around a crime-scene.

Cutting the engine, the boys hopped out of the jeep and I clambered over the front seat and slipped out behind them. I was dressed much more appropriately in my leather jacket and dark jeans, and I adjusted the hood on my black hoodie to cover more of my hair as I trailed along beside them.

"No," Scott was hissing at Stiles. "Stay here – someone has to keep watch."

"How come I'm always the guy keeping watch?" Stiles demanded.

Wow, it was like they'd almost forgotten they'd invited me along. Thanks guys.

In annoyance I silently took two running steps and then pushed off against the tarmac, propelling myself upwards and landing lightly on top of the gate in a crouch before dropping down to the other side. Neither boy noticed the slight rattle I caused as Stiles had already dug his hands into the chain-link in preparation of climbing over.

"Cause normally there's only two of us!" Scott retorted, grabbing at his arm and pulling him back down. "And you don't like anyone else driving your car."

Scott made an excellent point there.

Wiping a hand over his face, Stiles then pointed a finger accusingly somewhere in the vicinity of Scott's nose. "Okay, why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin?" Stiles questioned before flinging his arms out in frustration. "I don't wanna be Robin all the time."

Sweet Zeus, if anyone was Batman – it was me. Seriously. I even had the tragic back-story for it.

"Nobody's Batman or Robin any of the time," Scott answered exasperatedly.

"Not even some of the time?" Stiles seemed deflated that Scott had punched a hole in his superhero metaphor. It's okay buddy, I know the feeling. Pop culture just seemed to go right over Scott McCall's head.

"Look, just stay here!" Scott reiterated.

"Oh my god!" Now it was Stiles' turn to sound like a five year old as he stomped his feet. "What about her?" He flung a hand out towards where I was waiting patiently on the other side of the gate.

"Are you two done with your lovers spat?" I asked conversationally with a raised eyebrow.

"Wait," Stiles stopped for a moment and actually seemed to notice there was a gate between us. "How-how did you get over there?"

Crossing my arms, I cocked my head to the side, "I jumped."

Huffing out a nervous laugh, Scott shook his head before scrambling up and over the fence, dropping heavily to the ground in front of me and wiping his hands off on the front of his jeans. Shoving his shaking hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, he glanced at me from beneath his bangs and tilted his head in the direction of the bus, "Okay, let's go."

Falling into step beside him, I studied Scott from the corner of my eye suppressing the urge to link our arms or grab his hand in a bid to comfort him. The boy was a jittery ball of anxiety – you didn't have to have supernatural animal senses to see that. I could feel it beginning to affect even me and fought against mirroring his body language, instead forcing my limbs to be loose and relaxed with my thumbs casually hooked into my belt-loops.

Scott's nose twitched and he looked at me as we approached the bus suddenly asking "Fred, can you stay with Stiles?"

"Why?" My eyes narrowed as I quickly replied, not quite suspicious but still not understanding why it took him this long to ask me to go back.

Taking a deep breath before letting it out Scott explained, "Because all I can smell right now is the butter and popcorn you were eating before we left and what I think is your shampoo – which is nice, by the way. But I have no freaking clue what I'm doing, and I really don't want to mess it up, and –"

I stared hard at him through all of this, taking in how agitated he was becoming as he began twisting his hoodie in his fists. "Chill out, Teen Wolf," I interrupted, I couldn't be too annoyed with him if his reason was I smelled too distracting – that had to be a compliment, right? "I'll go play look-out with Stiles. I think the most important thing with all this is that you let the Force move through you – don't try to control it, just let it take you where you need to go."

As he stared back at me blankly I let out a disappointed sigh, "Scott, we are going to set aside some time and you're going to watch Star Wars if I have to tie you to a chair and tape your eye-lids open."

His face scrunched up, unable to tell how much of what I said was a joke in his anxious state, and I squeezed his bicep reassuringly and gave him a soft smile before turning on my heel and heading back towards the gate.

This time as I approached the gate, seeing Stiles sitting in the jeep watching me curiously, I decided to show off. I pushed off of the top of the gate with my hand, flinging myself forward and into a flip. I landed with my knees slightly bent in front of the jeep and smirked at Stiles, who was trying very hard to stop me from seeing the impressed look on his face.

"By the way," I said to him with a tongue-between-teeth grin. "I'm Batman."

Laughing softly at his scowl, I pulled open the jeep's passenger-side door and climbed inside.

He fidgeted behind the wheel, making huffing sounds and drumming his hands impatiently against every available surface he could find. Come on, buddy, I'm not too jazzed about being left behind either but the only person currently able to witness how annoyed you are is me. And I got left behind too.

After only taking so much I snapped, "Look, just turn the car on and leave the lights off so we can listen to the radio or something. Because if you keep spazzing out I'm gonna be forced to tie you up and throw you in the back-seat."

I was on a real bondage-theme with my threats tonight, it seemed, as Stiles' head jerked up towards mine and he stared at me with those ridiculously expressive eyes of his. Honestly, it was unfair for a guy to have eye-lashes like he did – I had to use mascara to achieve what he more than likely took for granted. Twisting the keys in the ignition the car spluttered to life and the dash lit up, illuminating our faces in ghostly light, as he leaned forward and started jabbing at buttons on his head-unit as he cycled through different stations trying to decide on one he liked.

"– __gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash, you –"__

"– __you driving round town with the girl I love and I'm –"__

"– __some sugar on me, can't get enough. I'm hot, sticky sweet, from –"__

"– __you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me. You got designer shades –"__

"– __once there was a way, to get back homeward. Once there was –"__

Stiles went to change the station again but I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, moving his finger away from the head-unit. As I felt him tense up beneath my fingers I let go, wondering if I may have held onto him a little more strongly than I'd intended, and said, "Please, don't change it – I love this song."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Stiles moved forward again but rather than change the station like I expected just to spite me he instead turned the volume up, filling the car up with the soft sound of __Golden Slumbers__.

Closing my eyes I leaned back in my seat and sang along softly under my breath, "Sleep pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing you a lullaby. Once there was a way to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home."

I was surprised when Stiles joined in with me, the jeep filling with the sounds of us singing along with Lennon and McCartney. When the song finished we sat in companionable silence until the radio announcer spoke up and broke the spell.

"Sooooo... The Beatles huh?" Stiles inquired over the chatter coming through the speakers and I could feel his eyes on me even though mine were still closed.

"Yeah," I replied softly with a noncommittal shrug of my shoulder, opting to keep my eyes shut even though it made my other senses hyper aware. Anything to hide the now burning sensation at the back of my eyes and tip of my nose, I was thankful my voice hadn't betrayed the emotion the lyrics had inspired within me. Instead I tried to focus on anything else.

The feel of the cold leather of the chair slowly warming against the strip of skin at the small of my back where my shirt had hiked up. The quiet rumbling of the jeeps engine with the occasional stutter that made me wonder when the last time Stiles had had it serviced was wrapped around me. I could feel the warmth radiating off of Stiles' body less than a foot away from me, hear the leather creaking as he leaned forward and gripped the steering wheel, his fingers dancing along it to a tune I didn't recognise. The jeep smelled like french fries, candy, and a not entirely unpleasant musk I'd come to associate with most teenage boys when they didn't attempt to drown it in cans of Axe body spray.

"So...what's up with that?" Stiles attempted to engage me in conversation again. "Most-well-most girls aren't really into anything that was, you know, released before they were born."

I chuckled at that, "Oh, don't get me wrong – I'll get down to Justin Timberlake as much as the next girl. But good music transcends age and stereotypes."

" _ _Golden Slumbers__ though?" Stiles pressed. "It's not exactly one of their more common songs like __Here Comes The Sun__ or __Hey Jude__."

"Anyone ever tell you you ask an awful lot of questions, Stilinski?" I asked dryly as I cracked open one eye, watching his profile as he rested his chin on the steering wheel and stared intently towards where Scott was prowling around.

"More often than you'd think," He shrugged, which with his current posture made him kind of look like a turtle. The tone of his voice revealed that this was a trait that wasn't often met with positivity. Which was a shame. Pure childlike curiosity was rare to find in people anymore unless they were under the age of thirteen.

"My mother liked The Beatles," I admitted after an almost uncomfortably long pause following his words, not entirely sure why I was telling him this. I began twisting my fingers around each other almost absentmindedly in my lap, aware that I was moving them but not really registering how. "She used to play them while working on her cases to focus." I stopped for a moment as my voice began to sound thick as my throat tightened, taking a sharp breath through my nose before continuing, " _ _Golden Slumbers__ was what we would sing when she'd have a particularly rough case or hard day when she tucked me into bed. She'd tell me __'who needs therapy when you have a beautiful daughter who's kind enough to let you butcher a good song by singing it off-key'__."

I remembered how she'd wait for me to get comfortable under the covers before thrusting my ukulele into my hands and asking if I'd sing with her because it'd been 'one of those days'. I never got to know exactly what it was that had shaken her so much, but as I got older I began to guess and decided that maybe I preferred being ignorant to the horrors my mother witnessed.

"Case?" Stiles perked up, finally glancing over at me eagerly as he probably felt he had found some common-ground with me. "You're a cop-kid too?"

"Homicide detective," I automatically corrected, I'd always been proud of my mothers career.

"Wow," Stiles continued, about to keep questioning me I'm sure, but I shushed him with a wave of my hand and stared intently through the windshield. Following my gaze he also saw the security guard shining his flashlight a little too close to the bus Scott was in for comfort.

Stiles began cussing under his breath and moved to bang his hand down on the horn when I stopped him. "Your dad's the Sheriff and your car is more than a little conspicuous," I explained as I cracked open the passenger-side door and slid out. "I'll warn Scott and try and lure the guard away – I'll meet up with you guys a little bit down the road."

Looking entirely unhappy with the situation, but knowing that arguing with me would be futile, Stiles angrily put the car in gear ready to go as soon as Scott got there. "Be careful," He hissed at me as I closed the door, a scowl twisting at his lips and furrowing his brows.

I grinned at him, "I'm always careful. I'm the most careful slayer to ever slay."

As I broke into a jog following the chain-link fence down away from the jeep but keeping the security guard in my sights, I couldn't help but thank him a little bit for saving me from the inevitable __'I'm sorry your mother's dead'__ conversation that I'm sure Stiles and I were only a few minutes away from having. I'm sure he must've suspected something, since I'm living alone with Kevin who I'm sure he was smart enough to figure out wasn't actually my uncle, but that didn't mean that I was ready for the consequences of confirming his suspicions. Like I'd said to Kevin on the weekend – I hated the look people gave me after learning my orphan status. And Stiles would treat me differently. He wouldn't just blurt out what he was thinking with some mildly offensive sarcastic remark – which was surprisingly preferable to the walking-on-egg-shells approach most people took with me after knowing. Instead he'd give me that sad look as he stuttered over his words in a bid to not hurt my feelings, or worse he'd just stop talking to me altogether to prevent himself from saying something wrong. A thought I found surprisingly upsetting – I guess he was growing on me.

Once I was sure I was far enough from the car that the guard wouldn't notice it once I got his attention, I lifted my fingers to my mouth and let out the most ear-piercing whistle I could manage. It seemed to work, as the flashlight now swung to illuminate the ground only a few feet away from me and I skittered to the side as my eyes caught Scott booking it out of the bus behind the security guard. Continuing down along the fence-line I let out slightly less high-pitched whistles at short intervals in a bid to hold the guards attention. A plan that worked as he barely noticed the sound of Stiles driving off once Scott had made it to the safety of the jeep.

After a minute or so more of my game of cat-and-mouse, I slipped back into the trees and ran off after the two boys in the blue jeep.

I found them pulled over on the side of the road not too far from the school, and Scott got out so that I could climb into the backseat. Once we were all comfortable and situated, Stiles headed back towards my house to drop me off.

"Alright, so now that Fred's here – did it work? Did you remember?" Stiles burst out, looking as though holding that question in until I arrived had actually caused him a small degree of physical pain.

"Yeah, I was there last night," Scott said breathlessly as he continued to ride out his adrenaline rush from almost getting caught. I leaned forward between the boys' seats, bracing my elbows on the head-rests and lacing my fingers together to rest my chin on as I listened. "And the blood – a lot of it was mine."

I raised my eyebrows as Stiles clarified, "So – you did attack him?"

"No!" Scott protested. "I-I saw glowing eyes on the bus...but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

"And what about the driver?" Stiles continued prodding, and I smiled slightly as I noticed the almost procedural way he went about his questions – much like a cop would.

"I think I was actually trying to protect him,"

"Wait, what!" Stiles finally pointed out a very big plot-hole in all of this that I had noticed from the beginning. "Wh-why would Derek help you remember that __he__ was the one that attacked the driver?"

"That's what I don't get!" Scott's voice was agitated as he shook his head.

"It's gotta be a Pack thing," Stiles suggested.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, his nose scrunched up adorably in confusion. I swung my face towards Stiles too, interested in how he was going to spin this.

"Like an initiation," He explained. "You do the kill together."

Skeptical, Scott deadpanned, "Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience."

Glad we missed that particular team-building exercise at HQ.

"Yeah – but you didn't do it!" Stiles grinned with relief. "Which means you're not a killer! And it also means –"

"– that I can go out with Allison," Scott finished Stiles' sentence with a dopey grin on his face that had me rolling my eyes.

Giving Scott a look that loosely translated as 'what the fuck, bro', Stiles shrugged and said, "I was __going__ to say it means you won't kill __me__."

"Oh yeah," Scott said slowly as though the idea hadn't even occurred to him until that moment. And with teenage boy Allison brain, it probably hadn't. "That too."

"Now that we know that Scott isn't about to go on a murderous rampage, can we clear up one itty bitty plot-hole in all of this?" I suggested, gaining the attention of both boys who finally realised how close my face was to theirs as Scott jerked back from where our noses had almost collided when he'd turned to look at me. Stiles, meanwhile, had tensed up – a common theme when it came to my proximity to his person, weird teenage boy hormones.

"Uh, what plot-hole?" Scott frowned, looking put-out that I wasn't currently celebrating his lack of homicidal-status.

"The one where you two still think it was Derek," I explained as I rolled my eyes. As both boys opened their mouths to argue, I quickly asked, "What colour were the eyes, Scott? The glowing eyes you saw – what colour were they?"

As his whole face screwed up in thought, I shot a look at Stiles who was opening his mouth to say something, not wanting him to influence Scott at all. I had a pretty good idea of what colour the eyes had been, and I felt confident in saying they sure as Hades hadn't been blue. But Scott needed to realise that, he needed to start trusting Derek.

"They...they were," He said slowly with his eyes shut tight before looking at me. "They were red."

I grinned triumphantly and only just resisted the urge to pump my fist into the air at being proven right. With a smug glance at Stiles who looked mildly put-out at being unable to blame Derek I said, "Then it wasn't Derek. Because only Alpha's have red eyes and Derek's not an Alpha. He's got pretty blue eyes."

"Creepy blue eyes, you mean," Stiles muttered under his breath as he glared at the road.

"Don't sulk, Stiles," I sang gleefully. "Your eyes are pretty too."

* * *

" _ _What are you doing?"__

"Why hello to you too, McBroody," I smiled into the phone as I lay strewn across my bed amongst various notepads and text books. "And I'm doing my chem homework, which is to say I'm completely free – what's up?"

" _ _I want to go to the hospital and check out the guy who was attacked – see if he remembers anything,"__ Derek replied. __"Was wondering if you wanted to tag along."__

"Are we taking your car?"

" _ _Yes,"__ Derek answered slowly and I pictured his brows creasing in the middle as he tried to figure out why that was important.

"Be here in ten," I replied and promptly hung up.

Jumping into the passenger-side of the Camaro, I wiggled around in the leather seat and may have let out a minuscule moan of pleasure. "Oh my Gods, it's just like I imagined it would be."

Derek gave me a side-ways glance and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, before shaking his head and thinking better of it. Putting the car in gear, he maneuvered out of my driveway and set us on a course towards the hospital Garrison Meyers had been taken to.

Good call, Derek. I think it's better if we didn't have the talk about how I may potentially love your car more than you.

I'd relaxed into the seat, listening to the purr of the engine as we drove in silence, when we came to a stop. Opening my eyes I found that we weren't in a hospital car-park like I'd expected and were instead at a gas station. "Uh, Derek?" I asked as I took in the seemingly abandoned gas station that was lit up by the artificial glow of flood-lights. "I think I've seen this movie – it doesn't end well for either of us."

Shaking his head to hide his hint of a smirk he opened his door and got out, "I'm almost out of gas, just wait here."

When the two SUV's showed up, blocking us in, I called through the window at Derek knowing his wolf hearing would pick it up, "I __told__ you I'd seen this movie!"

Peeking in the rear-view mirror after Derek told me to stay in the car with a slight shake of his head, I saw two grown men get out of the SUV behind us and instantly came to the conclusion that they were hunters. This was confirmed when Papa Argent exited the red Tahoe blocking us from the front and strolled casually over to Derek, who – bless him – continued to fill up the car like nothing was wrong.

"Nice ride," Papa Argent said as he came closer and rubbed at a nonexistent spot on the hood, and I had to smother a laugh at him attempting to sound 'hip like the young'uns'. "Black cars though, very hard to keep clean."

Was he threatening the car? I think he's threatening the car. Who does that?

"I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance," He continued, not seeming to notice me yet through sheer dumb luck I guessed. Grabbing a windshield washer from a nearby bucket he started dragging it across the glass, eyes on Derek rather than what he was doing, "When you have something this nice, you want to take care of it – right? Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love." Oh, buddy, you've got nothing on me I bet. "That's something I learned from my family. You don't have much of that these days, do you?"

Wow, Papa Argent played dirty. It didn't matter if someone was a supernatural creature or not – if you bait them enough they're gonna go for your throat. Looking in the side-mirror I saw Derek curl his fingers into a fist and I quietly unfastened my seat-belt in preparation of aiding him if it came to a fight. In my eyes, the Argent's shot first and they couldn't blame us for fighting back.

But Derek unclenched his fist and I watched as Papa Argent smirked at him smugly, like Derek had passed some little test acknowledging Argent's dominance. "There we go," He put the windshield washer away and gestured to the glass, his eyes widening in recognition as he finally noticed me. "You can actually look through your windshield now. It somehow makes everything much clearer."

As he started to walk off I began to relax again, until Derek called out, "You forgot to check the oil."

Papa Argent stopped, and I instantly knew that this wasn't going to end well.

Turning back he told one of the hunters behind us, "Check the mans oil."

Tracking the hunter with my eyes I watched him approach the front of the car before stopping in front of the drivers side door. With a smirk he smashed the butt of his rifle into the window, shattering glass all over the drivers seat. Quick as a flash I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the gun, jerking it towards me. "Looks good to – ugh!" The hunter broke off as I pulled the gun out of his hands and twisted the barrel upwards, rendering it useless, before tossing it back out the window to land at his feet.

I hate guns.

The hunter bent to peer inside the car at me and I bared my teeth in a wolfish grin. Picking up his gun, the hunter snarled across the top of the car to Derek, "Control your bitch, wolf."

Now that's just rude. Any possible trace of guilt I may have felt deep down over ruining his firearm was now practically nonexistent. Besides, he had hurt the car. That might have been the biggest dick move in the history of dick moves. It was the dickiest move. Dick move times infinity.

I locked eyes with Papa Argent who was watching me calculatingly, as though measuring my worth. With a jerk of his head he signaled the foul-mouthed hunter to get back in his SUV, and told Derek, "Drive safely," before heading back to the Tahoe and pulling out of the gas station.

Once I was sure they were gone I opened the car door and stepped out to face Derek.

"I kinda feel like we just survived a scene from The Outsiders," I admitted as I shifted on the balls of my feet under his gaze.

"Take it easy, Sodapop," He smirked, walking around the car and starting to clear the broken glass from his seat.

"Hold up, back up the bus, did you just make a __joke__ McBroody?" I exclaimed, placing one hand dramatically against my chest in shock. "Maybe we should deal with property damage and lame intimidation tactics more often – it brings out your more light-hearted side."

"You shouldn't have done that, you know," He commented as we pulled out of the gas station, the cold night air ruffling his hair. "You didn't need to engage with them, I was handling it."

"You're right," I agreed with a shrug of my shoulders. "But I did it anyway."

"Why?" He sounded legitimately perplexed that I would risk exposing myself to the hunters for him. Which made me sad. I'd hoped by now, after getting him out of jail and inviting him around for dinner, that he understood that I was on his side. That he had a friend.

"Because I wanted to," I chose to simply reply, beaming brightly at him when he glanced over with his brows raised. Let him interpret it as he liked.

We arrived at the hospital with no further incidents, and I agreed to keep watch outside of Mr Meyers room while Derek snuck in to talk to him. I paced up and down the hall with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, the sterile smell of the place burning my nostrils as I struggled to control my heart-rate. I didn't do well in hospitals – never had. The starkness of it, the quietness interspersed only by the beeping of monitors, any sound generally meaning that something had gone wrong. It wasn't comforting like a library, it was like being stuck in a constant feeling of falling but never knowing when you'd hit the ground. Nobody went to hospital for a good reason. It was a place where you generally received bad news. And for someone like me, someone who was constantly risking their life in battle, the hospital spelled a death sentence. The place I would end up if I was so fatally wounded that I couldn't patch it up myself.

And if I was unable to fight – I was useless.

I tried to keep my nerves under control, counting out my steps before spinning on my heel in a way that would make a military commander proud and starting again the opposite way. I wondered how the Disaster-Double-Date was going, assuming well since I hadn't gotten any texts from the people involved. Unless they had all killed each other and were unable to use their cellphones anymore. That was always a possibility. I knew that Allison had snuck out after Papa Argent had ordered her to stay home – maybe he and his posse of hunters had tracked her down and Scott was now hanging above Papa Argent's mantle.

"Excuse me, you're not supposed to be here."

I tensed, my shoulders jumping up around my ears, and then forced myself to relax as I turned and found an older woman with thick curly dark hair pulled back from her angular face approaching me in nurses scrubs. As she got closer I saw that she had large brown eyes and was carrying a handbag and cardigan, obviously just finishing her shift.

"I'm sorry?" I managed to say as I stared up at her, finding her frustratingly familiar. Latching onto that instead of my growing anxiety.

"Visiting hours are over," She explained tiredly, before her face lit up in recognition. "Are you one of Scott's friends?"

"Scott McCall?" I clarified, finally figuring out why she looked so familiar – she must be Scott's mom.

"Yes," She smiled at me. "I'm his mother, Melissa. You were the one who had the sign for him at the lacrosse game – you and Allison."

"Yes," I nodded, taking the opportunity to distract me from my current anxiety. "Fred – I mean, I am Fred, Fred Ackerman. Nice to meet you, Mrs McCall."

"So, what are you doing here Fred?" Mama McCall asked, a little more friendlier this time though still as tired.

"I'm here with a friend of mine," I explained, growing increasingly upset despite my best efforts to appear relaxed. "But I went to use the bathroom and now I can't seem to find him again. And I'm just all turned around – I don't do well it hospitals, you see? They give me the wiggins. And-and now I'm lost, and he's not answering his cellphone."

Exactly how much of that was acting, Fred? Some big, bad, slayer you are – letting a hospital get to you.

Mama McCall placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, "Alright, sweetheart, it's alright. We'll find your friend, what's his name?"

"D-derek," I stuttered out, trying to get control of my breathing as the place finally got to me. "His name's Derek."

"Alright," Mama McCall repeated as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and rubbed one hand soothingly up and down my arm. "Where was the last place you saw him?"

"Fred?" Derek called out and we looked up to see him moving quickly down the hall with what appeared to be angry concern on his face. Which wasn't surprising, I think anger was his default emotion. "Fred, what's wrong?"

I didn't think. I broke free from Mama McCall's embrace and moved to Derek's side, seeking comfort in something familiar – an anchor – as I clutched at the sleeve of his leather jacket. I didn't think that I was showing him weakness. I didn't think about the consequences of letting my tough slayer mask slip. To be completely honest I couldn't emphasize how little I was thinking in that moment.

"You must be Derek," Mama McCall said as she gazed at me sympathetically. "I'm Mrs McCall, Fred's just a little anxious at the moment. It might be a good idea if you took her outside for some air – it will help her calm down."

Derek gazed down at me, and I couldn't quite decipher the emotion in his green gaze as he answered, "Okay, I'm ready to leave now anyway," His hand wrapped gently around my upper arm and he began to guide me forward before stopping and adding, "Thank you."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Mama McCall smiled. "Just make sure you take care of her."

"I will," Derek replied politely.

"And Fred?" She added and I looked up expectantly. "Thank you for the sign, and for believing in Scott, I'm not sure if he's mentioned it but he really appreciated it. You're a sweet girl."

"He deserved it," I replied with a jerky shrug of my shoulders, starting to gain some control over my emotions again.

We had just made it to the end of the hall when the piercing sound of someone flat-lining met our ears. Mama McCall instantly moved towards the sound, disappearing into the room Derek had entered not too long ago with a few more hospital staff hot on her heels.

"So, hospitals huh?" Derek asked as he steered me around the corner at a casual pace. I calmed down enough at his words to gaze up at him as impassively as I could manage.

"We never speak of this again," I said, referring to where his fingers were still lightly curled around my arm.

Glancing down at me out of the corner of his eye, the side of his mouth lifted up into a soft smile, "You're welcome."

"Never again," I reiterated as I stared at the ground with a matching smile tugging at the edges of my lips.

* * *

 ** **AN: Hi guys, I'm soooo sorry for how long this update took. Real-Life got in the way, plus this chapter kinda kicked my ass in places.****

 ** **As always, hi to all my new readers and reviewers. Welcome back to my regulars - haha. For the guest that reviewed, I've got a couple of special interactions planned between Fred and Kate - just you wait. After the events of Magic Bullet (which we begin next chapter) the Argent's are most definitely not on Fred's Christmas Card List.****

 ** **If you're interested in face-claims for Fred and Kevin then check out my tumblr (username: susiesamurai) and just use the tags #fred ackerman or #little red riding hood fic****

 ** **Looking forward to hearing what you think - don't be scared to drop a review, even if it's just a question, I always try my hardest to respond.****

 ** **Happy Reading****

 ** **-SusieSamurai****


	8. My Feelings Are Of The Good

**Chapter Eight – My Feelings Are Of The Good And Excited Variety**

 _It's just a little crush,_

 _Not like I faint every time we touch._

 _It's just some little thing,_

 _Not like everything I do depends on you._

 _Crush (Campsite Dream Remix)/Jennifer Paige_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.**

* * *

"Gwen – Gwen Stacy!"

Hearing foot-steps pounding down the hall behind me I moved closer to the row of lockers on my right, not wanting to be bowled over by someone who decided running through the school shouting out for a fictional character was a smart idea. I was officially free from monitored scholastic Hell and was on my way to meet up with Kevin at the library to get started on my homework before Patrol later tonight with Derek. It would be my first time seeing him since the incident with the Argent's last night and I was wanting to get his side of the story for what went down after we'd left the hospital. Apparently he and Scott had finally _talked_ to each other – if you could call throwing each other through the walls of that horror-set of a house _talking_ – and Scott had come to the conclusion that he did in fact need Derek. Even if he was grumpy and a little socially awkward.

The foot-steps continued past me and stopped. Right in front of me. Right in front of me was Barista Boy.

Dark brown hair stuck up in the front and around the edges of the grey beanie he was wearing, his fair skin lightly flushed from running and he had a pleased smile on his face that made his ridiculously blue eyes literally sparkle. Like a Disney Princess or something. A hot Disney Princess.

A hot Disney Princess that was staring at me expectantly while I gazed at him dumbfounded. Pull it together, Fred.

"Gwen Stacy?" He ducked his head forward as he addressed me, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans.

Turning my head from side to side to make sure we were the only people around, I pointed a finger at myself and asked, "Gwen Stacy is me?"

Rocking on his heels, his worn Converses squeaking softly against the vinyl floor, his pleased smile turned into a shy half-one, "Well, I was 98% sure that you weren't actually 'Gwen Stacy'. I mean, despite the obvious similarities like you both being blonde and cute. But seeing as I don't know your name, I figured it was better than chasing you down shouting 'Hey you!'."

I frowned before it clicked – the fake name! The moment of panic, kinda like what I was experiencing now, that had made me tell him that I was Peter Parker's first girlfriend when he took my order on the weekend. My eyes went wide and I felt my face heat up slightly in embarrassment until I forced myself to act cool. Oh, PTB, please let me be cool.

"You've-you've been looking for me?" I blinked up at him, which actually wasn't very far. It was nice, not having to almost break my neck just to be able to look him in the eye when I was talking to him. Not that he was short. Average height, I'd say. Like, only a couple of inches shorter that Scott and Stiles. Oh my Gods, why was I fixating on his height? Was he talking to me again?

"– may have been keeping an eye out, but whenever I'd get close to you you'd disappear," He was saying and I forced myself to pay attention. "I'm guessing you're not a Junior as I haven't seen you in any of my classes."

"Oh!" My eyes widened. He was a Junior? Maybe he did look a little Junior-y. What did a Junior look like? Did they have an aura of Junior-ness? Did I have an aura of Sophomore-ness? Damn, say something else, Fred. "No, I'm-I'm just a Sophomore. Almost a Junior though. Sophomore on the cusp of Junior?" Trailing off I said under my breath, "And I'll just stop talking now..."

He chuckled and my stomach did a little flip-flop as the sound seemed to reverberate through his chest before escaping his lips. And those damn Disney Princess eyes. I didn't even know it was possible for eyes to sparkle outside of animation.

"I'm David Hatter," He said with a grin. "Most people seem to call me Hatter, though. Not entirely sure why – by the time I'd noticed it it was too late to stop it. Anyway, am I allowed to know your real name now? Just because I'm planning on asking if you want to go out with me Friday night, and I'm pretty nervous so I think it might help a bit with the whole confidence thing."

Asking me out. As in on a date. With me. And him. On Friday. Why was he staring at me?

"Me?" My eyes widened in surprise. "I, um, I mean – I'm Fred. Fred is me. Fred Ackerman."

"Fred Ackerman," David repeated, and just hearing him say my name made the flip-flopping in my stomach go double-time. It was like someone was flipping 372,448 pancakes and using my stomach as the griddle. "Okay. Fred – do you want to go out Friday night. With me. Not just in general."

Smiling at him I nodded my head, "I would like to go out with you Friday night. In a very much not in general way."

Bouncing lightly on his heels again David bobbed his head, "Awesome. I guess we should swap numbers now or something? I think I've accosted enough random blondes in the halls of Beacon Hills High thinking they were you – I don't even want to know what kind of reputation that's gotten me. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to communicate through a series of smoke signals? Maybe carrier pigeon?"

Giggling, I dug my phone out of my messenger bag and passed it over to him, accepting his in return, "Texting is more than okay. If you're feeling particularly crazy, you can even call me."

"Don't think I won't," He teased as we accepted our own phones back. "I'll have you know I am prone to crazy hijinks from time to time. Sometimes," He added conspiratorially. "They even turn into shenanigans."

"I think I can deal with shenanigans," I replied, tilting my head to the side as I smiled up at him. Not that there was a choice in the matter. I didn't think I could stop smiling if I wanted to – it was currently my default facial setting. We were both just standing there smiling at each other and I was reminded that I was officially not allowed to tease Allison or Scott for doing the same thing ever again. Though, we hadn't quite progressed to gazing yet.

"Right," David cleared his throat and gripped the strap of his backpack with one hand. "I suppose I should let you keep doing what you were doing before I decided to chase you down."

"Huh?" I frowned before remembering that I had in fact been on my way to the library. "Oh! Yeah, I do kinda have an elsewhere to be – but trust me, it's not an elsewhere I'd prefer being. At. There." I shook my head while he continued to look at me with this amused little half-smile on his face. "Um, I think I might just go now," I said as I began to move past him. "I need to go find myself a hole to sit in, or a paper bag to put over my head."

Nodding, David replied, "I'll see you Friday. Paper bag and all."

Once I'd rounded the corner and had peeked to make sure he'd gone, I jumped up and down on the spot while whispering, "Oh my Gods," to myself on repeat. I'd gotten a date. A cute boy had asked me out on a date. Me! And he wasn't a Vampire or a Werewolf or some kind of Demon. Just a normal teenage boy. And my nervous babbling hadn't put him off. He thought I was cute.

I was still buzzing five hours later when I went on Patrol with Derek.

It took him fifteen minutes until he finally got fed up with my apparently annoying positivity. "You want to tell me why you've been humming Disney songs since we met up? Because, honestly, it's a little distracting," Derek grumbled as we combed through the north-east corner of the preserve on Alpha-Watch.

Struggling to keep the smile off of my face I hopped up onto a fallen log and strolled along the top of it. Derek could grumble all he liked – he was the one who recognised them as Disney songs, so who was the bigger dork? Okay, well, me. But still, I wasn't alone in my dorkiness. Underneath all that leather and broodiness I bet there was just a slightly less broody Derek who wanted someone to watch Disney movies with him while eating popcorn.

I suggested as much to him and was rewarded with an eye-roll and muffled snort.

"Okay, okay," I admitted to him. "So I might sorta-kinda-maybe have a date on Friday."

Looking at me sharply, Derek frowned, "Stiles asked you out?"

Stopping in my tracks I stared at him in disbelief, "Uh, no. A world of no. I'm not even entirely sure how you came to that conclusion, but again – no."

Stiles? When had I ever given him the impression that Stiles and I were a thing? Or possible thing?

"That kid Isaac then? Your chem partner?" Derek's frown deepened as he tried to puzzle out who may want to spend time with me in a non-platonic way.

Again, I'm sure I'd never spoken about Isaac in a romantic light. If anything he would've only been an off-hand comment or two.

"Again, no," I replied. "Are you going to just keep listing through all of the boys I've ever mentioned associating with? Though, I'm kinda flattered that you are listening when I tell you about my day."

Eyes narrowed, Derek muttered, "I listen more than you think."

"Well, thanks for that creepy turn there McBroody," I said flippantly. "And I've never talked about this boy. He's a Junior and he works at Starbucks, and despite my complete mental deficiency during our conversation earlier today he powered through and asked me out regardless."

"He's older than you?"

"By a year," I answered slowly as I glanced side-ways at him and saw his clenched jaw. "It's not like he's some cradle-robbing middle-aged man out to steal my innocence with smooth talkin' and a slick suit, so cool your jets there McBroody."

It wasn't quite jealousy that Derek was struggling to hide. It was something else. Was...was he being protective? Of me? I think he was. It kind of made me feel warm inside and I smiled gently at him, a gesture he certainly didn't miss as he quickly looked away.

"You're too young to be dating," Derek said shortly.

"Scott's dating Allison," I pointed out. "Despite Lydia and Jackson their outing last night was a certified success on that count at least. To be honest, their official coupley-ness is kinda nauseating. Sweet, but sickening – like eating too many peeps at Easter."

"Scott shouldn't be dating either. He can't control himself."

"See," I pointed out reasonably. "I can understand your views there. But, I am fully in control of my powers as well as being a capable and mature young woman. So your reluctance on my part is kinda of the puzzling."

After a pause that was beginning to border on awkward, Derek muttered while shaking his head, "Don't worry about it. Enjoy your date Friday night."

Chuckling, I deadpanned, "Wow – when you say it like that, how can I not?"

Stepping closer to me he bumped my shoulder gently with his and sighed, "I hope you have fun. Go back to humming your songs – you were half-way through _Once Upon A Dream_."

Grinning up at him I bounced on the balls of my feet as we walked, "Feel free to join in – I know you know the words." I promptly resumed my humming while Derek struggled to appear annoyed with me to keep up appearances.

I pretended not to notice, for his sake.

* * *

"Earth to Fred! Hello!"

I blinked, startled as Lydia snapped her manicured fingers at the end of my nose, shaking me from my daydreams about David and my impending date tomorrow night. Allison giggled next to her and I sent a mock-glare her way.

"God, where were you?" Lydia demanded, annoyed that I'd ignored her for however long she'd been waiting for me to stop zoning out.

"With David," I replied as a goofy smile spread across my lips.

"David?" Lydia's perfectly made up eyes narrowed at me. "David who?"

"David Hatter," I answered in an airy voice. "I'm going on a date with him tomorrow night."

"What!" She screeched, drawing attention from a few of the students around us. "When did this happen?!"

"Yesterday after school?" I answered, instinctively inching back towards the lockers behind me. I knew it was unreasonable but when Lydia looked at me like that with her green eyes blazing and a flush forming delicately across her pale skin, I legitimately feared for my life. Glancing over her shoulder I made desperate eye-contact with Allison, begging her to save me.

"And you're only telling me _now_?" Lydia demanded, shaking her head so her fiery curls tumbled around her shoulders. "Oh my God Fred, look how much time you've wasted! Allison and I will be coming around tonight to organise what you're going to wear. Has he told you what you're doing yet?"

Thinking for a moment I envisioned the few texts he'd sent me the night before that I'd practically burned into my brain. "Uh, no," I admitted. "Just that he'd be picking me up at around seven."

Lydia groaned, throwing her hands in the air theatrically and rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "I can't believe he hasn't said anything else! How are you meant to dress appropriately if you don't know what you're doing. Fine – this is going to take all of my skill to make sure whatever you wear is suitable for whatever idea he may come up with. I haven't even seen your wardrobe – I mean, your fashion-sense isn't too bad but it's kind of inconsistent."

"If it's that much of a thing I could just text him and ask?" I suggested, waving my phone in my hand. I didn't realise it was that much of a big deal, honestly. Apparently I had a lot to learn about the treacherous waters of dating if Lydia was to be believed. But after witnessing a few of the power-games she and Jackson played with one another I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to follow her advice.

"No!" Lydia made to grab at my phone as though her practically shouting at me wasn't enough of a deterrent. "Don't you dare! No texting him – not unless he texts first and then you have to wait at _least_ fifteen minutes to text him back."

"That sounds stupid," I replied bluntly while Allison nodded her agreement. Once Lydia spun on her though she quickly changed direction so she was shaking her head in disagreement. I mouthed ' _traitor_ ' at her while Lydia was still turned away.

"It's not _stupid_ ," Lydia informed me superciliously. "It's how you play the game, sweetie. I can see now that you're going to need me even more than Allison did."

Taking Allison's soft noise of indignation as my cue, I linked arms with the taller girl and began leading her away to our first class. Looking back over my shoulder I called out to a frustrated Lydia, "Talk to you at lunch!"

Once we were out of earshot, Allison grinned at me and asked, "So who's David Hatter?"

"Barista Boy," I grinned back at her. "He's a Junior."

"I knew it!" Allison crowed triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you he was looking at you?"

"Yes, yes you did," I replied. "I promise to never doubt you again."

"So, a Junior huh?" She nudged me suggestively.

Giggling, I said, "Yeah, he chased me down in the hall after school yesterday yelling out for Gwen Stacy."

"Told you it'd be a cute story!"

"Ugh, stop gloating," I groaned. "I don't think I can take anymore ' _I told you so's_ ' this early in the morning."

"Let me know when you've woken up properly then – I can wait."

After school finished, Lydia, Allison, and I gathered in my bedroom. Allison and I watched from the desk chair and bed, respectively, while Lydia rummaged through my closet throwing whatever she deemed a 'possibility' suspiciously close to my head.

"Did you have to tell everyone?" I was currently complaining. "I had Jackson and Danny corner me about David in math. Jackson seemed surprised that 'Hatter' had asked me out."

"I only mentioned it to Danny in Homeroom," Lydia replied. "It's not my fault that he then told Jackson."

"How do they even know who he is anyway?" I asked. "David's a year ahead of us."

"He's also pretty popular despite not being on the lacrosse team," Lydia answered, sounding offended that people seemed to like him for reasons other than athletic ability. "Are you two friends on Facebook yet?"

"No," I frowned. "I don't have Facebook."

"What?!" It seemed to be the day that I caused Lydia to constantly screech at me in disbelief, it seemed. "Are you trying to give me a heart-attack today, Fred? Honestly, do you want me to die? How do you not have Facebook? You were in Scotland – not Antarctica."

"It's not like I've never had one," I shared a look with Allison at Lydia's over-reaction. "I deleted it just before I went to Scotland though. I got sick of the drama that came with being on the cheerleading squad. It was exhausting."

When you're trying to drop off of the grid for a while following your entire family's murder, it's generally a good first step. Plus, I didn't have much time for updates while I was fighting for my life. I wasn't exactly stopping to take selfies with Turok-Han and demons before slaying them. Hashtag: just another uber-vamp trying to kill me. Hashtag: SlayerProblems.

"Allison," Lydia ordered. "Get this girl back on social media stat – and then we're going to have a look at just what David Hatter gets up to in his free time."

"Aye aye, captain," Allison gave a mock salute before opening up my laptop and getting to work on my Facebook page.

"I always forget you were a cheerleader," Lydia remarked off-handedly before hitting me right in the face with what I think was a dress.

"I was also popular," I pointed out. It had been for all of a few weeks – but Gods dammit, I'd been popular. It'd been _exhausting_ once the novelty wore off _._ "So tomorrow night isn't exactly my first rodeo."

"It may as well be sweetie," Lydia replied from within my closet.

"Done!" Allison announced just as I was about to throw my pillow at Lydia's head, the suddenness of her voice throwing off my aim so it instead bounced off of Kevin's face as he approached the open door.

Getting over the initial shock of my aerial pillow attack, Kevin used every ounce of Britishness in his body to remain dignified despite Allison's poorly concealed giggles and my amused snort.

"Hi, Mr Smith," Lydia greeted saucily with a half-smile while she cocked her hip to the side.

"Hello, Miss Martin," Kevin replied completely unaffected with a friendly grin, before acknowledging Allison also, "And you, Miss Argent."

"Hey, Mr Smith," Allison replied, waving one hand in greeting while the other covered the smile that refused to leave her lips.

"Well, Fred, if you're quite done with tossing around the bedding," Kevin continued while I sat up on the bed with an unapologetic smirk on my face. "Are your friends staying for tea?"

"Thank you for offering, Mr Smith," Allison piped up. "But my dad want's me home early because of the curfew."

"And unfortunately," Lydia added as her eyes roamed over my Watcher's suit-clad body. I was thankful that poor Kevin was totally oblivious to any form of flirtation, as even I was getting a bit uncomfortable just witnessing it. "I'm Allison's ride home."

After Kevin left the room, I balled up one of the blouses Lydia had tossed my way and threw it at her face. As she blinked her large green eyes at me in surprise I said, "Don't hit on Kevin – it's all types of ick with a side of gross."

Allison nodded her agreement.

"You two are no fun," Was her reply as she tossed her hair and approached Allison at my desk. "And now that you're on Facebook – it's time to stalk David Hatter."

Lydia hadn't been lying – David was popular. The reason of which became apparent fairly early into our stalkerage – he was in a band. He also appeared – at least on social media – to be a really genuine guy. He didn't post anything too offensive, but still had a sense of humor. The majority of his photos were candid snaps of him and his band-members.

I tried on at least 10 outfits before Lydia was satisfied. She hung the clingy red top and dark denim skirt on the back of my closet door, reminding me to pair it with stockings and boots. I'd also been given permission to wear my leather jacket – I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd been planning on wearing it regardless.

"Hey Lydia?" I asked as I spied my messenger bag hiding under a pink and white sundress.

"Yes?" She answered distractedly as she now sorted through my cosmetics and jewelry.

"Do you think you could give me a hand with my math work this weekend? To be completely honest – I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and Kevin will kill me if I flunk."

"Why are you asking me?" She frowned, but I saw through her act. I'd seen this routine before and knew that it was all a show.

"Maybe because you're top in our class?" My voice was light as I answered. "You know, Lydia, you shouldn't be ashamed of the things you're good at." Lowering my voice conspiratorially I added, "And besides, the air-head act might fool Jackson but it's not fooling me."

"If you're helping Fred, can you help me too?" Allison joined in. "I've been having a lot of trouble with bio and I know you're really good at that – you're always first to hand in your work-sheets."

I winked at Lydia as she tried to hide her shock that we'd noticed the fact that she was intelligent. "Like I said, you can fool Jackson. But I know that a pretty face doesn't mean an empty brain."

Tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, Lydia finally let her glossy lips turn up in a genuine smile, "Sure, I suppose I could find some time."

"Oh thank the Gods!" I burst out dramatically. "Because I'm also suffering from major suckage in bio and chem – pretty much everything you're good at."

Hopefully now that someone had said aloud that there was no shame in being proud of what you're good at and enjoy, Lydia would actually start using that big brain of hers in public. Jackson's ego wasn't that delicate that he couldn't handle Lydia being smart – in my opinion their biggest issue was communication.

I had to sit through a full-fledged makeup trial as Lydia tried her best to make me look sexy without it coming off as more like a child playing with her mother's makeup. Red lipstick was out. Cat-eye liner was out. Purple eye shadow was out – in my opinion it should have never been in. Once she was satisfied, she left me a step-by-step hand-written guide to help me reenact it tomorrow night by myself. Lydia and Allison booked soon after since Papa Argent had started texting her inquiring when she'd be leaving.

Finally alone I collapsed back on my bed amidst what had to be 70% of my wardrobe.

Hurricane Lydia had left the building.

* * *

Friday had arrived.

D-Day. Dooms-Day, Date-Day, or Dick-Day if Lydia Martin was to be believed.

"Hello, Snow White!" Lydia was currently teasing a blushing Allison. "I'm talking about a condom."

Allison laughed nervously, "Are you kidding? After one date?"

I had to agree.

She was currently in the middle of advising Allison to make sure that Scott 'covered up' during their Study-Date after school. I was a bit shocked, if I were honest. Like any teenage girl I was aware that a study-date with your boyfriend was just code for making out on your school books for at least an hour, but generally you left your pants _on_ for that. Unless, of course, you were Jackson Whittemore apparently.

Did she expect me to be similarly prepared with David? If so, she was going to be severely disappointed.

"Don't be a total prude," Lydia scoffed. "Give him a little taste."

Stuttering, Allison managed to ask while uncomfortably wrapping her arms around her middle, "How much is a 'little taste'?"

"A vow of celibacy and a chastity belt," I interrupted cheekily. "Matching purity rings like the Jonas Brothers?"

Lydia rolled her eyes at me and asked Allison, "You're really serious about Scott, aren't you?"

"He's...he's just different," Allison struggled to explain. "When I first moved here, I had a Plan. Capital P-plan. No boyfriends till college, I just move around too much. But then I met him and..." I swear that there were actual hearts in her eyes as she played with her hands. "It was different. I don't know, I can't explain it."

Allison really was Snow White.

"I can," Lydia piped up matter-of-factly, smiling smugly. "It's your brain flooding with phenethylamine."

"What?" Allison let out a laugh of disbelief.

"I regret saying you can act all smarty-pants now that you're using words I don't think I can pronounce even after hearing you say it," I remarked.

Clasping her hands together and pointing both index fingers at Allison after giving me another smug look, Lydia continued, "Look, I'm gonna tell you what you're gonna do – when's he coming over?"

"Right after school," Allison replied, beginning to look nervous again.

"You're going to play it by ear," Lydia said, glancing at me as if to say 'look! I can give good advice'. "Take your cues from him. And if at any point you're uncomfortable – tell him to stop."

"Agreed!" I linked arms with the two of them as the bell rang, and we set off down the hall. "Excellent advice Lydia. It was the most advicey advice to ever been advised. And now, can both of you never talk about what's in Scott's pants around me ever again."

As we were walking towards the parking lot after school, I got to suffer the embarrassment of David witnessing me talking to myself after Lydia and Allison disappeared without letting me know.

We had been chatting away just fine, Lydia finally agreeing to stop teasing both Allison and I about our impending dates tonight – Allison's study, and my unknown.

As David smiled down at me I struggled to control my blush as I said, "I swear my friends were walking with me all of five seconds ago."

Behind him I saw Allison and Lydia waving at me with matching Cheshire cat grins on their faces before they moved towards their respective cars.

"I believe you," David replied, holding his hands up as though he could physically hold back my embarrassment.

"So, what's up?" I asked, smiling shyly up at him. Oh my Gods, what if he was wanting to cancel? What if this was a prelude to dump-age? Was it really being dumped if we had never actually gotten around to the date itself?

"I'm not canceling on you, if that's what you're thinking," He quickly said. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm looking forward to tonight."

"What a coincidence, so am I."

At my words a grin stretched across his lips and I found myself unconsciously mirroring it. "Good," He nodded. "Because my ulterior motive was feeling out how you were feeling."

"Ah," I nodded back. "Then you'll be happy to know that my feelings are of the good and excited variety. So mission accomplished."

"See? There you go again, helping with my confidence," He teased.

I was telling the truth – I really was excited about tonight. I was excited about something _normal_. No werewolves or vampires or witches or dancing demons. Just an ordinary date with a cute Junior who seemed to think I was interesting. I was so excited I was practically vibrating and had talked to Dawn at least 5 times since Wednesday.

A flurry of honking horns caught my attention and we both turned to see a line of irate teenagers backed up behind a familiar blue jeep that had stopped in the middle of the parking lot.

"What's going on?" I heard David say beside me while I peered at the jeep trying to see what it's driver was doing.

"Nothing good if Stilinski's involved," I unconsciously said aloud.

"Huh?"

"Look, I've gotta book," I told David, too preoccupied with tracking a flustered Scott run up to the jeep to even contemplate being nervous around him anymore. "But I'll be ready when you pick me up tonight – promise!" I took off, barely registering his farewell.

I skidded to a stop in front of the jeep when I saw Derek collapsed on the tarmac.

My stomach twisted and I could hardly hear Scott and Stiles over the roaring in my ears. My entire world had narrowed onto Derek's ashen sweat slick skin and feverish eyes as he struggled to control his wolf. Green flashed to blue and back and he flexed his fingers constantly as he attempted to retract his claws.

"– that's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours," Scott said.

"W-what?" Derek struggled to ask between quick shallow breaths. "W-ho said 48 hours?"

"The one that shot you," Scott answered.

If possible the roaring got louder and my blood ran cold.

"Who shot him?"

All three boys turned to look at me standing there, as though they hadn't noticed me at all. Scott's eyes went wide as he took in the hardness in my voice. The flat way in which I'd voiced my question. They weren't talking to Fred anymore.

They were talking with the Slayer.

Just then Derek started to partially shift again and Scott hissed at him while glancing around, "I told you – stop doing that!"

"He can't," I informed the boy who was currently more concerned about what his fellow class-mates would think than the injured man in front of him. I saw Derek glance at me in surprise – that I knew he couldn't control the shift or that I was standing up for him to Scott, I wasn't sure.

Taking charge I strode forward and crouched next to Derek. Throwing his arm around my shoulders I hauled him upwards and pinned Scott with a hard gaze, "Open the door."

While Scott rushed to do as he was told, Stiles made a noise of complaint as he yanked open the driver's side door and jumped inside.

Derek could barely hold himself up and I ordered Scott to hold him while I scrambled into the jeep so I could then pull him in behind me. I was so concerned about Derek being injured that I didn't even register that I was basically sitting in Stiles' lap in order to get Derek into the passenger seat. Once he was settled I transferred myself to the backseat and listened as he spoke to Scott.

"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used," Derek gasped out in one breath.

"How the Hell am I supposed to do that?" Scott exclaimed.

"She's an Argent," Derek answered. "She's with them!"

"Why should I help you?"

Something about the way Scott said that, that Derek was somehow unworthy of his help, made something in me snap.

My eyes were cold as I leaned forward to stare at Scott through the open window, my voice hard and my words even, "Because, Scott McCall, it's the right thing to do."

Scott glanced down, my words obviously resonating with him, and I added, "And also, because you don't want me showing up at the Argent's and doing it myself."

Having the good sense to realise what my threat entailed, it appeared Scott finally seemed to notice the tension I was holding in my body. By Odin, I was practically vibrating with the effort of stopping myself from storming the Argent household now that I had it confirmed that an Argent had done this.

This hadn't been an attempt to subdue a possible threat. It had been attempted murder. In my eyes anyway.

And as the official Slayer of Beacon Hills, my opinion was really the only one that mattered right now.

Derek Hale was certainly intimidating and brooding and had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and letting people jump to conclusions before explaining himself.

But he wouldn't have attacked an Argent after that power display Tuesday night – Derek Hale was not suicidal.

After maintaining eye-contact with Scott a few moments longer, his eyes widened at whatever he saw in mine, I turned to Stiles who was staring at me as though I were a stranger. I placed a hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

"Drive, Stilinski."

And he did.

* * *

 **AN: Firstly, thanks to EveWrites for so kindly accepting my proposal and agreeing to be my beta-reader. She's awesome.**

 **Sorry this update took so long, as always Real-Life got in the way. I hope too many of you aren't annoyed with where I decided to cut this chapter, and I know it's a little shorter than usual because of it, but I promise the update won't be such a long wait. I wouldn't do that to you!**

 **TinyCurmudgeon: I'm glad you liked the bonding between Stiles and Fred. And I know - aren't her and Derek the cutest things ever? She's really standing in his corner this season and he deserves it. The man's a walking attraction for life-shattering traumatic events, the least I could do was give him a friend.**

 **TeiaShore: At this stage I've got a few cameo's from the Scooby Gang planned, but they aren't happening until after Season 2 unless what I have planned suddenly changes. We'll still have phone-calls with Dawn from time to time though until then. Maybe a couple of Flash-Backs. But real-time visits are a while away.**

 **Guest: No, it wasn't a reference - just a happy coincidence!**

 **anarchxst: Thanks again for your bullet-point breakdown of the story so far, looking forward to hearing your thought's to come. And I'm still loving the idea of Fred and Maddie hanging out swapping slayer stories.**

 **As always, happy reading and feel free to drop a review.**

 **-SusieSamurai**


	9. You Almost Got Brutally Mauled- To Death

**Chapter Nine - You Almost Got Brutally Mauled – To Death**

 _And I don't wanna hear you tell yourself,  
That these feelings are in the past.  
You know it doesn't mean they're off the shelf,  
Because pain's built to last._

 _Everybody sails alone,  
But we can travel side by side.  
Even if you fail,  
You know that no one really minds._

 _Heal Over/KT Tunstall_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.**

* * *

I was terrified.

When I was terrified I tended to do one of two things – get angry or shut down. At the moment, I seemed to be walking the razor's edge between the two of them. I paid hardly any attention to where Stiles was driving us, content with the silence of the last few minutes broken only by Derek's rasping breaths. The roaring in my ears was building in volume again as my eyes narrowed in on the labored rise and fall of Derek's chest. He was pale – too pale. It was that ashy grey pallor that you only saw in people close to death or who were dead – and undead.

In a bid to calm myself down and nip my oncoming panic-attack in the bud before it could set in, because a Slayer who was unable to fight or focus was useless, I began to mouth to myself something that Buffy had once told me: _Be a Slayer, stand up, be strong. Be a Slayer, stand up, be strong._

If I said it enough, I'd eventually learn to believe it.

Pulling out my phone I texted Scott with trembling fingers, berating Stiles when he first attempted to for texting while driving, asking the teen wolf if he was having any luck with the bullet. His reply was hardly a few minutes later, but to me it felt like a life-time, and the three word reply had me gritting my teeth.

 _'Need more time.'_

Stiles glanced back at me questioningly and I shook my head, "He needs more time, apparently."

More time to hook up with Allison, more like it. Stop it Fred, don't be a bitch. I'm sure he's trying his best. Allison just probably isn't letting him out of her sight.

Leaning forward, I helped Derek shrug out of his jacket and placed the bundle of leather on the seat beside me. As he slumped back against the seat, his head lolling with the movement of the car, I closed my eyes tight after seeing the bottom of his left sleeve dark with blood.

Similar images flashed through my mind: _Long blonde hair streaked with crimson. A crisp white dress-shirt stained red. Blood smeared across my knees and strung between my fingers as I clenched and unclenched my fists. My sneakers tracking bloody footprints across the wooden floor as long fingers curled around my wrist and pulled me towards the door. Away from the bodies. The bodies..._

"Hey! Try not to bleed out on my seats – okay?" Stiles moved his hands above the steering wheel in frustration as he eyed Derek beside him, his voice shattering the images in my mind and drawing my attention back to the present. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" – "Where?" Both Derek and I asked at the same time.

Heaving a huge sigh, Stiles uttered the words as though it should've been obvious, "His house."

"What?" Derek must have been in pain, because his eyebrows barely moved as he stared at Stiles incredulously. "No, you can't take me there."

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles questioned exasperatedly.

"Not when I'm unable to protect myself, you can't," Derek explained as evenly as possible as though he believed Stiles to be very dim-witted – which, when I thought about it, he probably did.

Making a loud noise of annoyance Stiles violently pulled the jeep over to the side of the road.

Putting it in neutral he turned to Derek, "What happens if Scott can't find your little magic bullet – huh? Are you dying?"

"Not-not yet," Derek took a shuddering breath before continuing, "I...I-I have a last resort."

I looked at him sharply as Stiles gestured violently and spluttered, "Wha-what do you _mean_? What-what last resort?!"

Rolling up his shirt-sleeve, Derek revealed the wound that was causing all of this just below the inside of his elbow. The bullet-hole was deep with raw edges since he wasn't able to heal it over, the center dark with blood and infection. Black veins spidered outwards from the wound, crawling down towards his wrist and up through the crook of his arm. Dark tacky blood continued to ooze from it – his body's accelerated healing managing to thicken the blood before the poison kicked in and canceled it out.

"Oh my God!" Stiles exclaimed, his voice thickening with disgust as he turned away. "What is that? Ugh...is it contagious? You know – you should probably just get out."

As he stretched out his finger to point at the passenger side door, I batted his hand out of the way and snapped, "Stop being so damn dramatic, Stilinski. People get injured in war – and if you haven't noticed yet, we're bang-on in the middle of one."

"Start the car," Derek ordered. "Now."

"You know – I don't think you should be barking orders," Stiles retorted, leaning closer towards Derek the more worked up he got. "Especially not with the way you look – okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead!"

You wish buddy. I doubt you could drag a pillowcase filled with the entire Harry Potter and Percy Jackson series into the middle of the road, let alone a 200 pound werewolf in his prime. Regardless of how injured he was.

"Start the car," Derek glared at him. "Or I'm gonna rip your throat out." Pause. "With my teeth."

Thank you for being disturbingly graphic, Derek.

Stiles stared at him until I spoke up, "Stilinski, just start the car. Derek, don't make threats you don't plan on following through with."

As a scowling Stiles started the jeep back up and pulled out into traffic, I stared at Derek until he began to shift almost uncomfortably beneath my gaze. Regardless though, I kept my hand on his shoulder, unable to lose a point of contact with him. Touch reassuring me that he was still here. That he was still alive. It was enough to keep my anxiety in check for now.

"When did you get shot?" I asked, suspicious that he was refusing to meet my gaze.

"Last night. After we finished patrol – I picked up the Alpha's scent on-on the way home," Derek explained haltingly between breaths, looking down at his lap when my eyes narrowed. "I-I was tracking it through the industrial warehouses downtown."

Throwing my hands up in the air, I addressed the ceiling of the jeep exasperatedly, "Why didn't you call me? We're the Dynamic Duo – it's kinda hard to be a duo if one of them's dead because they refused to call for help!"

"I didn't want you to worry," Derek muttered, looking out the window.

"Well, that backfired on you alright," I told him. "Because I am beyond worried. I've crossed over into another plane of worry as far as you are concerned mister. I don't even have time to begin to point out all of the flaws in that genius plan of yours."

Looking suitably chastised, Derek just offered, "I-I didn't want to ruin your date."

The jeep went so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I blinked at Derek, his words running on repeat through my head as I tried to process exactly what he'd said. _I didn't want to ruin your date. I didn't want to ruin your date. I didn't want to ruin your –_

"Date?!"

Stiles' head whipped back and forth between Derek, me, and the road. It was hard to determine exactly what emotions were flashing across his face, but the main one that came across loud and clear was incredulity. That kind of annoyed me – did Stiles 'Stuck In The Not-Even-Friend-Zone' Stilinski think that I was unable to get a date? That I was undateable? Excuse you, Mister Stilinski, but I am every bit capable of being the subject of wooing. I am very woo-able, thank you very much.

"What date?" He was continuing, his voice getting higher with every question he asked. "You have a date? With who? Not-not that it matters – I'm just in-interested in knowing who would ask you out."

Glaring at Derek as if to say 'look what you've done', I said, "Yes, Stilinski, I have a date tonight. Not that it's any of your business, but David Hatter asked me out."

"D-david Hatter?" Stiles spluttered. "Wait – _Hatter_ asked you out? But he's a year ahead of us. How'd he even know who _you_ are?"

"Firstly – rude," I said, offended. "And secondly – he works at the Starbucks I was at with Lydia and Allison before the game Saturday. He smiled, I smiled, I panicked and said my name was Gwen Stacy. Which he apparently found attractive. And-and why am I telling you this?" I ended with a shake of my head.

"Saturday...Saturday..." Stiles was mumbling to himself. "Wait! So when you said you couldn't help me find Scott because you had plans, it was actually because you were too busy _flirting it up_ with _Hatter_ to care about your friend?"

"Flirting it up...?" I repeated in disbelief. "Excuse me, but _what_? No, just no, I am not doing this right now."

Stiles opened his mouth to keep pushing at me, but Derek let a low growl escape from between his gritted teeth and the agitated boy thought better of it.

Who did he think he was? If I wanted to talk to a cute boy then I darn well would. I didn't need to run it past Stiles Stilinski of all people first. It was none of his Gods-damned business who wanted to date me and who didn't.

"But you," I turned on Derek. "When you get shot by a bullet filled with lethal werewolf poison you're meant to _call me_. That's the benefit of having a friend."

Stiles let out a muffled snort at my referring to Derek as a friend, but wisely avoided eye-contact with me and didn't add any further comment after I glared at him.

"Next time," Derek filled the silence with his labored words. "I get shot with poison – I will call you."

"Next time?" I laughed sarcastically. "Oh, ho, ho. No – there won't be a next time. Do you know why there won't be a next time? Because from now on when it comes to patrol, we are attached to the hip. If I need to escort you home at the end of the night – then by Zeus I will."

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Who got shot with a poisoned bullet? Hmm? Show of hands?" I looked exaggeratedly around the jeep as though searching for people other than Derek. "Oh, just you!"

"I don't need a babysitter," Derek growled at me.

Stiles started laughing and I turned on him, "Don't even get me started on you and Scott. You all need babysitters."

"Hey!" Stiles protested, his features twisted in offense. "I don't need a babysitter – I can handle myself."

Leveling him with a look I stated, "You almost got brutally mauled – to _death_ – by your best friend last week. In the boys locker room. You could have died cocooned in the smell of gym-socks, shattered dreams, and testosterone."

"But I didn't!" He retorted. "That was a success story! Besides – you weren't there anyway. I solved the problem all by myself."

"No," I said, coming to a decision. "None of you can look after yourselves. You're too vulnerable. Take me to Allison's. I'll get the bullet myself. I can't afford for Scott to get caught. If they'll poison Derek for just engaging in late night parkour, there's no telling what they'll do to Scott if they catch him thieving in their own home."

I should've never let Scott do this. I should've left Derek at the library with Kevin. I shouldn't have been wasting time driving around waiting for Scott to have a chance to look for something he doesn't even know anything about. I was the slayer, not Scott. It was up to me, not him, to save Derek.

"I'm not taking you to Allison's," Stiles told me firmly.

"What?" I asked, and I saw him quaver slightly under the intensity of the question, but he powered on regardless. Maybe slightly less firmly.

"I'm not t-taking you to Allison's," He repeated. "We're going to let Scott get the bullet, because he will. You need to trust him. He said he'd do it – he'll do it."

I stared at him with narrowed eyes until Derek let out a gasp of pain and stole my attention. With a frustrated growl I grabbed my phone and dialed Scott's number, holding it up to my ear and counting the rings until he answered.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Fi –_

"Tell me some good news, Scott," I said as soon as he picked up.

" _I'm trying!"_ He hissed back, sounding about five minutes away from a stress-induced asthma attack. " _I'm just having to sit through the meet-the-parents dinner from Hell. They won't let me out of their sight."_

"Derek's dying and you're eating _dinner_?" I asked incredulously.

" _What was I supposed to do?"_ If he still had asthma I imagined he'd be wheezing by now. " _Her aunt insisted. It was like a trap. Like if I said no it meant I was a werewolf. I don't know, Fred, I'm trying my best!"_

Then do the best of someone better, Scott! No, calm down Fred. That was uncalled for. He isn't a soldier, and you need to remember that. He's only a teenage boy trying his best. Don't take your feelings out on him. Help him. You're a slayer, that's what you do. You help people.

I took a deep breath and said a lot more calmly than I was feeling, using my nickname for him so he didn't think I was mad at _him_ , "I know Teen Wolf, I know. Look, they're hunters. Kate only got in the other night so I doubt she's fully unpacked yet. They like to stay ready to move around at a moment's notice. So she's probably got all her weapons still stored in her bags. Try her bedroom. Make sure you put everything back where you found it though – she'll be able to tell if someone's gone through it."

" _What if they catch me?"_ His voice sounded dangerously close to breaking. Like the stress of everything was regressing him back to the awkward stage of puberty.

"Well, you could use the excuse I always use?" I suggested.

" _What's that?"_ He questioned desperately.

"This isn't the bathroom?" I answered with a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the situation.

" _This isn't the –_ that's _your excuse?"_ Scott said dubiously. In the background I suddenly heard the sound of an alarm going off and then he said, " _Sorry mom, I've gotta go. But I promise I'll be home soon."_

"Don't hang up, Scott!" I urgently said into the phone, sensing that something had gone wrong. Keeping me on the line, but in his pocket, would mean that if anything did happen I would know instantly. It meant I'd be able to go right away, I wouldn't have to wait and find out when it was too late to do anything. I couldn't fail Scott again.

" _Yeah, I love you too."_ I took that as code to say he was going to keep me on the line, and not a sudden declaration of hidden love.

Both Stiles and Derek were looking at me, my words obviously making them think something was wrong, and I shook my head and held up a finger – signaling them to wait.

He didn't hang up, meaning he hadn't been declaring his love, and I could hear his muffled voice saying, " _Sorry, this isn't the bathroom?"_

" _Does it look like a bathroom to you?"_ A woman's voice replied suspiciously. " _Was that your mom you were talking to?"_

" _Y-yeah. Um, she was just wondering when I was going to be home. It's getting pretty late and with the curfew she gets a bit nervous."_ Well done, Scott. Let them know that someone's expecting you. It means they'll be less likely to do anything to you tonight, especially since your last known location would be the Argent's. Smart boy. Someone's been watching procedural cop shows.

" _That's sweet. With that mountain lion running about I expect everyone's a little on edge,"_ She sounded smug, like she suspected that Scott also knew that it wasn't a mountain lion, that they were sharing an inside joke. " _Look, kid, why don't you use the bathroom in the guest bedroom? It's just that room down there. I'll let them know you were talking to your mom – we were wondering what was taking you so long."_

" _Um, okay, thanks,"_ Scott answered, sounding bemused.

A few minutes later I could hear him rummaging around and then the sound of a zipper being undone. Oh sweet merciful Zeus, please tell me I wasn't about to listen in on Scott going to the bathroom. Please, please, please. I don't think I'm ready for us to be that close. That's like skipping at least five levels of friendship.

Turned out I was worrying over nothing when Scott suddenly whispered, " _I found it! I think. There's a wooden box with something written on it. I don't know what language. And – and there's bullets inside. Not normal ones, they smell wrong."_

"Send me a pic," I told him. "But take one of the bullets anyway. Just in case. And put it back how you found it."

" _Okay, okay. Just hold on."_

After a few seconds my phone buzzed against my ear and I pulled it away to look at the photo that had come through. It was the top of a small wooden box, branded into the worn wood were the words _'Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique'._ I recognised the word 'aconit' though I knew it better as 'aconite' – which was another name for wolfsbane.

I showed the photo to Derek who confirmed my suspicions that it was exactly what we were looking for. "That's the one, Teen Wolf."

"Look," Stiles interrupted. "What are we doing with Derek – because he's kinda starting to smell." After a moment where Derek and I simply glared at Stiles he needlessly elaborated – "Like death."

"We'll take him to my house," I decided. Now that we possibly knew what Derek had been poisoned with, Kevin might know of an antidote that we could use if Scott didn't show up in time. "We'll meet you there. Goodluck, Teen Wolf."

" _Uh, thanks, Fred,"_ Scott answered uncertainly, like he wasn't too sure what I was wishing him luck for. To be completely honest, I wasn't too sure either.

I noticed that he didn't hang up though.

Putting the phone on speaker, I passed it to Derek. "You hold onto this, McBroody," I told him. "You've got the best hearing – you detect any property damage or lame intimidation tactics, let me know."

Derek rolled his eyes but took the phone anyway, making a sound of affirmation.

"Thank you," I smiled at him, placing my hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently.

"Don't worry about me, guys," Stiles muttered. "You go on having your moments – I'll just drive the freaking car. That's me – glorified chauffeur."

"Don't be silly Stiles," I told him. "Chauffeur's get paid."

* * *

When we pulled up in my driveway I made Stiles get out first, climbing out of his door before making my way around to Derek. Derek who more fell than stepped out of the jeep.

Breathing deeply through my nose I held Derek's gaze and said, "Sorry if this damages your boy-ego."

I then proceeded to pull him onto my back like some kind of grumpy werewolf Yoda.

"Get the door for me," I told a wide-eyed Stiles who was staring at me as though I'd grown an extra head that then began to yodel.

He blinked twice before tripping over himself in his haste up the porch-steps, catching himself on the railing, and then ripping open the front door and disappearing inside.

"I hate you so much right now," Derek growled into my ear, his clammy skin pressed against the side of my face while his chin rested on my shoulder. I hitched his knees higher up my waist so his feet wouldn't catch against the steps as I started to climb up them.

"Liar," I replied. "Just be thankful I didn't decide to gather you up into my arms like a groom carrying his newly wedded wife over the threshold for the first time. Though, no doubt, you'd be stunning in white satin."

I got a defeated growl that tickled my ear in response.

"Fred!" Kevin called from the living-room. "Bring Derek in here."

Entering the room I found Stiles had already dropped down into the pinstriped armchair while Kevin hovered near the sofa, a soft throw had been draped across it and he had piled the cushions all down one end. I carefully lowered Derek down onto the sofa, nudging him back so he fell against the cushions when he made moves to get up.

"Stay," I ordered, before turning to Kevin and ignoring the look of annoyance on Derek's face. "Did you get my text?"

"I did," Kevin peered at me with keen dark eyes and I knew what he was looking for. Signs that I wasn't handling it. That Derek being injured was stirring up the events at the Hellmouth, the incident with my family. I broke eye-contact while shoving my trembling fingers into my pockets and, furrowing his brows in concern, he continued, "Unfortunately though, Nordic Blue Monkshood is a rare strain of wolfsbane and in order to make an antidote I'd need it as a component."

"I told you," Derek spoke up from the sofa, and I winced when I saw that the darkened veins had spread further across his skin. "I have a last resort."

Moving closer to Derek, Kevin studied the dark veins, "Once the poison reaches your heart..."

"I'm dead," Derek finished. "I know. That's why you're going to cut my arm off before it gets to that point."

What. The. Hell.

Covering my choked sound of shock I weakly quipped, "Well, that escalated quickly."

"If there is to be limb removal, you know, the removal of limbs – I, well, I think that maybe there might be an elsewhere that I should be," Stiles stammered out, looking a little green around the gills, but nonetheless still coherent enough to act out his words with his hands. "An elsewhere that isn't somewhere that I may have to witness you going all _Saw_ on Derek Hale."

"What? Do you faint at the sight of blood?" Derek sniped weakly at him.

"No!" Stiles protested loudly, waving his hands around and gesturing between his arm and Derek's. So loudly that I seriously questioned the truth in the statement. "But I might at the sight of a _chopped off arm!_ "

In the middle of all this there was a knock at the front door.

Leaving Kevin to mediate between Derek and Stiles I rushed to the door, yanking it open expecting Scott to be standing there with the bullet in hand and some witty one-liner like an action-movie hero.

Instead I found David Hatter standing on my porch in a nice button-down and dark jacket with a fistful of daisies and a half-smile on his lips.

A smile that very quickly turned into a frown of confusion as he took in my appearance, the daisies falling loosely to his side.

I understood why, I was still wearing the same red corduroy jeans and cream blouse I'd worn to school and my hair had fallen out of the curls I'd spent 10 minutes on this morning from running my fingers through them in worry. I imagined I looked disheveled and entirely unprepared for our date that I'd quite honestly forgotten about since Derek had brought it up earlier.

"Hi," I winced at the overly chirpy tone to my voice as I leaned against the door-jamb in an effort to appear casual that more than likely appeared forced.

"Hey," David replied, brows still furrowed. "I tried calling you, but your phone kept going to voicemail."

He looked adorably confused and it broke my heart, but I knew what I had to choose when it came between him and my duty as a slayer. To be honest, there was never a choice to begin with. I had a wounded friend inside, the first possible casualty of a burgeoning war that the Argent's had decided to declare. No matter how cute David was, no matter how much I liked him so far, there was no choice.

My duty came first.

"I'm really sorry," I blurted out and my smile turned into a slight grimace as I saw the understanding begin to dawn on his face, blue eyes widening. The more I spoke, the more I felt as though I were choking the little mermaid with a bicycle chain. "I've got a bit of a family emergency happening at the moment, my...cousin's...unwell...and we've just been a bit frantic."

The hurt in his eyes softened a bit with concern and he gestured towards the shoulder of my shirt, "That looks pretty serious."

Looking down I found that the pale chiffon was stained red with Derek's blood from where I'd carried him inside. "Oh!" I hurriedly answered. "No, that's just – he gets really bad blood noses."

"I didn't know you and Stilinski were cousins," David said, puzzled.

"Wait, what?" That seemed to be a massive leap.

Gesturing behind him with the daisies, I looked over to see what must've been Davids vintage orange Volkswagen van parked behind Stiles' jeep. I blinked rapidly as I realised what it looked like. Stiles at my house, me forgetting about our date and then coming out with an excuse as lame as 'my cousin gets nose bleeds'.

"No," I said while shaking my head. "No, no, no, no. Stiles isn't my cousin. And we also aren't a thing – if you're wondering that. Though I don't know why anyone would think that. I mean, it's _Stiles_. But I do have an emergency happening right now. And I was really excited about tonight."

Holding up a hand to stop the string of words that kept falling from my mouth, David gave me a soft smile and offered me the daisies, "Well, these are for you. And don't worry, I think the 5 no's summed up that nothing's happening with Stiles."

Taking the daisies from him, more words began coming out of my mouth, "And you brought me flowers. I don't suppose I could take a rain-check? This whole thing really wasn't an elaborate ruse to get out of our date."

Nodding his head, I got that same shy half-smile he'd given me after chasing me down the school hall, "Yeah, yeah you can take a rain-check."

Grinning at him, I clutched the daisies to my chest, "Good – great, even. I've – I've really got to go. But I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure. Yeah. Let me know if you need anything from me. I hope your cousin is alright."

After saying our goodbyes, I wandered back into the living-room with the daisies still held against my chest.

"Daisies, huh? Nice. Guess they didn't have a sale on roses." Stiles muttered from across the room.

Ignoring him, I placed the flowers down on the side-table and moved back over to Derek. "Any word from Scott?" I asked, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder as I peered between him and Kevin.

"We've...we've run out of time," Derek's entire body seemed to shudder with the effort of stringing together the sentence. "We...we need to...we need to..." He trailed off, his eyes falling closed, before he coughed up black blood that splattered over my lap and onto the carpet.

"That – that was disgusting," I heard Stiles' voice behind me thick with disgust.

Looking up at Kevin, wild-eyed, I completely ignored the black substance coating my jeans and hands as I stood up, "We need to help him – we can't wait for Scott any longer. Is removing his arm the only thing we can do?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Kevin was obviously unhappy with the answer as he stared down at me.

"Okay," I closed my eyes tightly and breathed deep through my nose, making my peace with what I was about to do. "Okay. We've got to get him downstairs then. Stiles – get the door. Kevin – grab the first-aid kit and meet me down there."

Without waiting to see if they were following my orders I bent forward and gathered Derek up in my arms, throwing him over my shoulder and marching towards the basement as though he weighed no more than my messenger-bag.

"I'm glad you're unconscious right now," I muttered to him, the skin of his hip pressed against my face as his shirt rode up. It was just warm enough for me to know he wasn't dead yet, and I unconsciously nuzzled my cheek against him finding comfort in that warmth.

I didn't want to cut off his arm. I didn't want Derek to live like that. But I wanted him to live, and if this was the only way then I would do it. At the very least I would make it quick – one swing of the Huntsman would be enough to do it. It would be clean and hopefully his accelerated healing would kick in almost instantly once the poison was out of his system.

If not...well, I'd cross that bridge when I was forced to.

Stiles had scurried ahead of me, leaving the basement door open wide before disappearing down the stairs. I hardly registered the noises of appreciation he was making as he looked at all of my displayed weapons, just concentrating on getting down the stairs as quickly as possible.

Gently, I dropped Derek onto the mats we'd been sparring on about a week ago. His blood had been spilled then too – but I imagined a broken nose wasn't anything like a severed arm.

As Kevin came in behind me, first-aid kit in hand as he dropped to his knees beside Derek and began tying a tourniquet just below his shoulder, Stiles spoke up, "Uh, guys, do you want me to like just – just wait upstairs? You know, for Scott – when he shows up. You don't really need _me_ down here – right? You've got it under control?"

Grasping the Huntsman I lifted it from the wall and turned to Stiles, lazily flourishing the battle-axe at my side as I moved back over to Derek who was still unconscious. "Yes," I informed him. "We do need you. If he wakes up, if he moves an inch, I might end up removing more than just his arm. Kevin isn't strong enough to hold a wolf down on his own. If it helps – you can have the side I won't be playing doctor with."

After maintaining eye-contact, Stiles was the first to look away and grumbling under his breath about getting blood on his clothes and needing so much therapy after this he dropped down on Derek's other side.

Approaching Derek's head, I planted my feet wide and bent my knees slightly in preparation of swinging the Huntsman with enough force sever the arm – I had to not think of it as _Derek's_ arm – in one blow.

"Ready, Fred?" Kevin asked, looking up at me from where he was pressing down on Derek's chest and holding his arm out straight from his body for me.

Nodding I hefted the Huntsman back over my shoulder, securing my grip on the haft I brought it down towards Derek's arm with as much force as I could muster.

"Stop!"

Recognising Scott's frantic voice I managed to stop the axe a hair above Derek's skin, the muscles in my arms and shoulders straining from the sudden stop of momentum.

Looking up at him from behind the hair that had fallen in front of my face, I could see Scott standing at the bottom of the stairs staring at the four of us in abject horror.

"What-what are you _doing_?" He asked as he moved closer, eyes wide as he saw the axe hovering just above Derek.

Collapsing backwards, Stiles addressed the ceiling, "Oh thank God! Dude, you just saved me from a life-time of nightmares and therapy."

Straightening, I lifted the Huntsman and propped him against my shoulder, "Please tell me you have the bullet?"

"Yes!" Scott nodded frantically as he dug into his pocket. "Yes I do!"

Rolling up his sleeves and revealing the black flame-inspired tattoos on his arm, Kevin rushed to Scott's side and took the slender bullet from him before turning back to Derek. Meanwhile I let the Huntsman fall to the floor as I dropped to my knees next to Derek and placed one hand on his chest and moved my ear next to his mouth. He was still breathing – but barely.

Wide-eyed I met Kevin's gaze and pleaded, "Please tell me Derek told you what to do with the bullet?"

Winking at me he gripped the bullet with his teeth and pulled the casing apart, spitting the top onto the ground, "Oh yeah, he did."

Tapping the wolfsbane packed inside it onto his palm, he knelt down beside Derek and tightened his hand into a fist. Interest peaked, Stiles sat up and watched as Kevin's hand was engulfed in orange flame and a blue smoke escaped from between his fingers as he slowly opened his palm and revealed the crystallized remains. Tipping his hand to the side he funneled the wolfsbane onto the bullet-wound in Derek's arm, then used a finger to push as much of it as he could into his flesh.

More blue smoke spiraled upwards from the wound and I bit down on my lip as the dark veins began to slowly disappear.

In a scene straight from a movie, Derek's back arched and his eyes flew open as he gasped in a breath like a drowning man finally breaking the surface. Letting out a relieved bark of laughter I all but tackled him as I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.

"I know you're not big on hugs, or physical affection of any kind," I murmured against his skin, knowing he could feel the coolness of the tears trickling down my cheeks. "But it's this or killing you myself for putting me through this."

I smiled against his neck as I felt one of his hands tentatively grasp my shoulder, gripping tightly until I moved back – realising that I was clinging to a shirtless werewolf in front of 3 other people – and allowed him to sit up. "Thank you," He said quietly, green eyes darting between Kevin and myself.

Grinning so widely my cheeks were hurting I replied, "Dynamic Duo, remember?"

Rolling his eyes he began to stand, "I'm never calling us that."

"You don't have to," I sang. "Because I will!"

Unable to hold it back anymore, Stiles burst out, "That was awesome! Yes!" Turning to Kevin he asked, "How'd you light your hand on fire? Are you mild-mannered librarian by day, Human Torch by night?"

Looking over at me as though to say 'where did you find this kid?', Kevin answered, "It was just magic, a handy parlor trick that most Watchers learn. As you're aware, vampires aren't particularly fond of fire."

Before Stiles had a chance to force Kevin into teaching him about magic right there and then, Derek spoke up with his eyes on an awkward-looking Scott, "Thank you. You saved my life."

Still riding on the adrenaline-high that Derek was alive, that I hadn't had to cut off his arm, that I wasn't losing another person I'd come to care about, I smiled at Scott and announced, "Actual hero, Scott McCall, everyone."

Shifting uncomfortably, Scott said, "You're welcome. But this, we're even now. You leave me alone. I don't want to be a part of this anymore. And if you don't," He faltered, glancing towards me guiltily before continuing, "If you don't – I'm going to go to Allison's dad and I-I'm gonna tell him everything –"

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek asked, genuinely shocked as he stared at Scott. "What? You think _they_ can help you?"

I, on the other hand, was clenching my jaw so tightly in an effort to let Derek try and handle this on his own that I could hear my teeth creak as they ground together. I liked Allison – a lot. But I couldn't understand why Scott was so blind as to what her family was.

"Well, why not?" Scott burst out.

Because they'll want to kill you Scott – that's why!

"They're a lot freaking nicer than you are!"

Derek looked as though he'd been slapped, mouth slightly open as his green eyes traveled over Scott wide with betrayal. And that's what it would have felt like to him – betrayal. Scott was willing to betray his own pack-member to the enemy. And Scott was pack in Derek's eyes – whether he wanted to be or not.

And quite frankly, right now he didn't deserve it.

"Nice!" I exploded. "You think they're _nice_?" I jabbed a finger towards Derek, "Was trying to kill him _nice_? Was shooting you with an arrow _nice_? Was threatening me _nice_?" I stalked towards Scott until I was standing right in front of him, "Quite frankly, Scott, I don't think you understand how to use that word correctly if that's your definition for it."

Scott stared down at me mouth agape and puppy-dog eyes round as he silently let me scold him.

Feeling a hand wrap around my arm I looked behind me to see Derek pulling me back and he met Scott's eyes before saying, "Come with me and I'll show you just how _nice_ the Argent's are."

"You're not going anywhere without me," I stated, folding my arms across my chest.

"Or me!" Stiles piped up from where he'd been watching the entire interaction wide-eyed next to Kevin.

"I'm having a cup of tea. I'm happy you're alive, Derek," Was all Kevin said before disappearing upstairs.

"You can come," Derek said to me, then turned to Stiles. "But you? Not a chance."

Interrupting Stiles as he opened his mouth to begin what would no doubt be an argument that could go on forever, I said to Derek, "He helped you today. I think it's only fair he comes too. Besides," I shrugged, "Scott's just gonna tell him anyway."

Grudgingly agreeing with me, Derek led us outside and retrieved his leather jacket from Stiles' jeep.

"I'll drive us," I announced, gesturing to Derek and myself with the mini's car-keys. "You guys follow behind and try to keep up."

Ignoring Stiles' eye-rolled I herded Derek into the mini before jumping in myself and starting her up. Backing down the driveway I asked, "So, McBroody, where are we heading?"

"Beacons Crossing Home," He replied.

* * *

We pulled up outside the long-term-care facility ten minutes later.

"So, what are we doing here?" Stiles asked as we all piled out of our cars after he pulled up next to us.

"Just...keep quiet," Derek replied, leading the way into the building.

We trailed behind him as we made our way through the hallways, thankfully not coming across any staff who might ask what a bunch of teenagers were doing there at close to 9:30 at night. Eventually we stopped outside of a room and he ushered us all inside. It was dark, but the open blinds let in enough light to see the older man sitting in a wheelchair placed beside the windows next to the bed.

Derek approached him with a sad look on his face, and I moved closer to him in an effort to comfort him.

"Who is he?" Scott asked in a hushed voice, peering between Derek and the man.

"My uncle," Derek replied, his voice even. "Peter Hale."

The other survivor of the Hale Fire, along with Laura and Derek. Of course.

"Is he like you?" Scott asked before needlessly elaborating. "A werewolf?"

You mean like you too, Scott?

Glancing at Scott, Derek nodded, "He was. Now he's barely human. Six years ago my sister and I were at school when our house...caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor."

Realisation began to dawn on Scott's face as he began to put the pieces together, but for some reason he was still in denial, "So, what makes you so sure that they set the fire?"

Uh, maybe because they're hunters? And that's what they do? Plus it seems totally believable since they barely seem to have any form of moral code.

A bitter laugh escaped Derek's lips and he turned to look at Scott, "Because they're the only one's that knew about us."

"Then," Scott said, grasping at straws. "They had a reason?"

Frowning, Derek asked, "Like what? You tell me what justifies this?"

Spinning his uncle's wheel-chair around he revealed the other side of his body to be covered in burn-scars.

"Dude," Stiles breathed. "He looks like Two-Face."

Even as I hushed him, I had to agree he had a point.

The horror had returned to Scott's face as Derek continued talking, "They say they'll only kill an adult. And only with absolute proof. But there were people in my family who were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. And it's what Allison _will_ do."

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice asked from the open door behind us, causing Stiles to jump and almost fall over in surprise. "How'd you get in here?"

"We were just leaving," Derek answered flatly, herding the rest of us out the door and following behind.

As we walked out of the facility, I barely noticed that my fists were clenched so tightly that my nails were cutting into my palms. All I could think about was that there had been humans in the Hale Fire. That there had been possibly children. And what Derek said made complete sense – the only people that would set the home of known werewolves on fire would be a hunting family like the Argent's. I'd already seen first-hand what their methods were and I was less than impressed.

I was furious.

I was the slayer and this was my town now. I'd known that I would eventually need to meet with the Argent's, but now I knew that I needed to do that sooner rather than later.

"Okay," Scott said, still shaken, as we came to a stop next to our cars. "Okay, I won't tell the Argent's. And I'll help you with the Alpha – but only if you help me. I need to learn control. And you need to stop being so weird and just showing up."

"You're really gonna trust him?" Stiles asked, gesturing towards Derek as though he were some used-car salesman trying to convince him that some piece of junk was really a vintage gem.

"I'm gonna trust Fred," Scott admitted, meeting my eyes and quirking one side of his mouth up. "She trusts Derek with her life. She's a slayer, and she's been doing it a lot longer than we have – so if she chooses the werewolf over the hunters, I think we should too."

Despite the anger still roiling in my stomach over what I'd just discovered about Derek's family, I smiled softly at Scott, "And there's the hero I knew you were."

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Stiles frowned at me and let out a huff as he crossed his arms, "Fine. We'll trust her."

"Okay," I said. "Now that we're all part of the circle of trust, I'm suggesting we go home. Because right now, hanging out in this parking lot, we kinda look creepy."

On the drive back to my house, I turned to Derek and said, "By the way, you're staying at my house tonight. Kevin's set up the spare bedroom for you and I'll take you to grab your car from wherever you've left it tomorrow."

"Don't you think that's a little excessive?" Derek quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Nope," I answered, popping the 'p'. I was keeping it casual so he wouldn't realise just how shaken I still was about the entire experience. I had to keep looking at him to prove he was still alive. I didn't think I could handle another person I cared about dying either because of me, or because I couldn't stop it. "Like I said, you almost died today. You need to remember you're not on your own anymore. And I think a good start is to stop squatting in the burned remains of your house. Besides," I threw a cheeky grin his way. "I always wanted a dog."

Ignoring his growl I continued, "And like you keep forgetting – we're the Dynamic Duo. We're friends. And friends don't let other friends sleep in condemned buildings. I don't care if I'm ruining your aesthetic."

"I wish you'd stop calling us that." I took the words as his surrender.

"Never, McBroody. Never."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to EveWrites for being my beta =)**

 **Also, huge thanks to TinyCurmudgeon and RandomCassie for your reviews last chapter - I am so happy to know you're still enjoying this story.**

 **I'd like to know everyone's thought's on this one - as you can see we're starting to break away from canon a little teeny tiny bit. Hope the Fred and Derek BROTP fluff didn't choke you all though haha**

 **As always, happy reading and please review.**

 **-SusieSamurai =)**


	10. My Fineness Is So Very Fine

**Chapter 10 – My Fineness Is So Very Fine.**

 _Oh, you're on the run and I'm chasing you,_  
 _Feels like war with all your glances._  
 _I'm just a boy without a clue,_  
 _And I can't control following you._

 _Alright With Me / Kris Allen_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.**

* * *

That night, I couldn't sleep.

My mind was constantly bombarded with images of Derek's life-less body – regardless of the fact that the man himself was only sleeping down the hall from me. Someone apparently hadn't informed my subconscious of his very much alive status. Despite this, every time I closed my eyes I was presented with a morbid carousel of what-if scenarios. What if I hadn't been close enough to the parking lot to hear the commotion Derek had caused? What if Scott hadn't been able to find the bullet? What if the Argent's had discovered what Scott was doing and decided to make Allison's initiation into the family business killing her werewolf boyfriend? What if I had cut off Derek's arm and that hadn't worked?

As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, deciding that if I wasn't going to get any sleep I may as well be doing _something_ , I was reminded of a similar situation that had occurred back in Sunnydale.

"Gotta say, sleep-bakin's a first."

 _I jumped, barely managing to keep all of the chocolate-chip cookies on the piping hot tray in my hands. Taking a moment before turning around, I mouthed 'oh my freaking God' to the stove-top while attempting to slow my racing heartbeat and ignore the amused vampire in Buffy's kitchen._

"Where's the Little Bit? Aren't you two stuck at the hip nowadays?"

 _The British vampire had draped himself bonelessly against the door-way as he regarded me curiously, his scarred brow raised in what I could only assume was glee at managing to surprise me._

"Isn't it almost your bedtime, Spike?" _I remarked flippantly as I placed the tray on the counter-top with forced casualness, hoping he wouldn't notice how my hands were shaking._

 _His answering smirk told me that he quite clearly saw through my act. Must be handy, hearing heart-beats, always knowing when someone's lying to you._

"Oh, baby-Slayer's got bite," _He teased, curling his tongue behind his teeth in what I could only describe as a leer._ "But you still didn't answer my question."

"Dawn's still asleep," _I said as I slid the cookies onto a rack to cool and started spooning more dough onto the tray._

"And turning the Summers' kitchen into a bakery? You've got enough biscuit's to feed a small army, I reckon." _Spike moved forward, his black leather duster swaying around him like he had made it from the shadows he had just stepped out from. Keeping his ice-blue eyes locked on mine, he snatched a cookie off the cooling rack, as though daring me to stop him._

"I couldn't sleep," _I admitted._ "And baking calms me down. It was this or start cleaning."

 _Settling himself down on one of the stools he regarded me thoughtfully across the counter, his eyes appearing even brighter in the artificial kitchen light, as he chewed the cookie in his hand. Ignoring him, I continued laying out the new tray of cookies, pressing down on each ball of dough with a fork . Spike let me work in silence until I'd slid the tray into the oven and closed the door._

"So then, baby-Slayer, what's turned you into a teenaged Martha Stewart?"

 _I eyed him suspiciously from where I leaned against the counter behind me, crossing my arms across my chest. I couldn't figure out what Spike was playing at, why would a 100+ years old vampire care what was keeping me up at night? I knew he and Dawn had a close relationship, not to mention the gossip I had heard surrounding him and Buffy. But me? He'd only known me all of two weeks, and this was the longest he had ever spoken to me, specifically._

 _In the end, I decided to be blunt,_ "Why do you care?"

"Who said I did?" _He shrugged._ "But the Little Bit has taken a shine to you. And I like you – you've got that same spark the Slayer did when I first met her. Plus," _He added, snatching up another cookie._ "You make a bloody good biscuit."

 _I narrowed my eyes at him as a thought came to mind, lunging suddenly across the counter to stab my finger into his shoulder. As my finger met with buttery leather and cold unyielding flesh I moved back, feeling confused but a warmth spread through my chest at his words regardless._

"Oi!" _Spike rubbed at the wounded area and gazed at me balefully._ "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Just checking you weren't The First," _I explained, despite my words being even I'd still automatically wrapped my arms around my middle in response to his ire._

"Smart girl," _Spike replied grudgingly._

 _The two of us then proceeded to sit in silence. After about 5 minutes I finally had enough and blurted out,_ "I keep seeing my parents."

"What? As The First?" _Spike questioned, concerned that the Original Evil may be taunting me and just what it might have been attempting to manipulate me into. Like, say, baking a bunch of poisoned cookies if the way he began eyeing them with an ounce of suspicion was any indication._ "That why you checked if I was real?"

 _Shrugging, I wrapped my arms tighter around my middle and hunched in on myself almost unconsciously, addressing the cookies instead of him,_ "It only tried it the one time. Not too long after I first got here. Dawn found me hiding in her closet afterwards because it was so horrible. It kept taunting me – first as my mom and then as my dad. Saying it was my fault that they were dead. That my brother was dead. Since then I've found it even harder to sleep."

 _I looked up at him, taking a deep breath and letting out through my nose,_ "Every night I replay it. With what I should've done. What I could've done if I'd been there. If I'd listened to Kevin. If I hadn't been so consumed with being _normal_. While I was at cheer leading practice my family was getting murdered by things that shouldn't have ever existed. That I was happy to know of, but didn't care about because I wasn't the Slayer _yet_. That it was someone else's problem – Buffy's problem." _I let out a short laugh that was much shakier than intended._ "Guess it's my problem now though, isn't it?"

 _Leaving the question hanging in the air I unfolded my arms, my hands curling into fists at my side. As always, the hot anger that had followed me from San Francisco was hovering just beneath the surface waiting to be let out. To be used against someone else._

"Let me give you some advice, baby-slayer," _Spike said, leaning forward and pinning me with those eyes._ "Regret's an ugly thing – it'll rot your brain if you let it. Same thing with vengeance, trust me on that one. All that fear and anger bubbling up inside you – use it, but don't let it use you."

"How?" _I whispered, knowing that he would hear me._

 _Spike smiled, his lips curving and revealing perfect white teeth that shone as bright as his eyes,_ "By trusting the Slayer, of course."

* * *

I woke up surrounded by cookies on every usable space in our kitchen except the part of the counter I was splayed across. Blinking blearily, I managed to locate my ringing phone and answered it without bothering to check the Caller ID.

"Hello?"

" _Hi! I mean good morning,"_ A male voice answered. _"It's me, well, David. I was just wanting to check and see if your cousin was alright?"_

Huh? Cousin? Straightening I absently rubbed at my cheek where some cookie dough had dried there once I'd eventually passed out. Squinting against the bright golden light pouring in through the kitchen windows I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 8:30 in the morning. The events from last night flit through my mind – Derek and the wolfsbane bullet, David showing up for my date and my terrible family emergency excuse, learning about Peter and the Hale fire, my newfound anger towards the Argent's.

Finally cutting through the fog in my mind I replied, "Oh! Yes, no, my cousin's alright. We managed to get everything under control. Why-why are you calling?"

" _Well, I was wondering how you felt about breakfast?"_ David asked. _"Not in general, but eating it. Out – with me. In, say, 15 minutes?"_

This boy was incredible. Even after I canceled on our date the night before when he came to pick me up, he was still wanting to take me out. A warmth started in the center of my chest and radiated outwards, and I'm sure my cheeks even turned pink. Thank the PTB that this was a phone-call and I was alone in my kitchen with only about 50 cookies to stand witness to my blushing like a school girl.

There were worse distractions from painful memories and emotions than going on a date with a cute boy.

Smiling I answered, "I'd say I feel pretty positive about the prospect of breakfast with you in, say, 15 minutes."

" _Awesome! I, uh, well that's great. I will see you in 15 minutes."_

Trying not to laugh I said, "See you then."

Ending the call, I slid off of the stool and stretched my arms as far above my head as they could go before swinging forward and touching my toes.

"I see you had a productive morning," Kevin remarked from the door-way behind me, eyeing the cookies with raised brows. "I thought you said that you were fine?"

I knew he was referencing my obsessive baking. I knew that he was taking it as a sign that I wasn't coping. But he didn't need to. I was fine.

"I am fine," I told him with a yawn. "Beyond fine – so fine. In fact, my fineness is so very fine that I'm about to go out for breakfast with a boy. A perfectly normal human boy."

"David?" Kevin asked. "The boy from last night?"

"Yes," I made my way past him. "And he'll be here in 15 minutes, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to go and get changed. I've had enough people comment on these pajamas thank you very much."

"The last time you were this fine was in Sunnydale," Kevin's voice came from behind me and my shoulders flinched slightly at the concern in his voice. But I was fine. I was dealing. It wasn't like before. "Just...just enjoy your date, yeah?"

"Thanks," I called as I climbed the stairs, shooting a smile back at him, grateful that he was letting it go.

Even so, I quickly looked away after meeting his narrowed hazel eyes. The emotion in them made something twist inexplicably tight in my belly, the feeling uncomfortably close to guilt.

When David Hatter knocked on my door a second time, I answered it fully prepared. I had glanced at the outfit that Lydia had put aside for our date the night before, and passed it by in favor of worn jeans and a burgundy cable-knit sweater over a yellow blouse. Taking in David's also casual attire of a hoodie, jeans, and beanie I was happy with my decision.

Once we were both seated in the front of his van, I turned to him and asked, "So, where are we headed?"

Grinning over at me he replied, "My favourite place in Beacon Hills to eat."

"Gee, want to vague that up for me?" I teased.

"If I tell you now, it won't be half as exciting once we actually get there," He laughed. "I'm kinda going for mysterious and cool right now."

"Oh," I said, widening my eyes in understanding. "Well by all means then, go ahead and be mysterious and cool."

"Thank you."

Soon enough we pulled up in front of a diner with a large sign above the doors that proclaimed it 'Mike's Place'.

Turning to face me, David grinned as he put the parking-brake on and cut the ignition, "So, ready for the best food in Beacon Hills?"

Shaking my head in amusement I replied, "Who told you the way to my heart was through my stomach?"

Chuckling he shrugged, "Lucky guess?"

David ushered me inside, the bell atop of the door tinkling lightly, and I was greeted by a diner that looked like almost every other diner I'd ever been in. There were booths lining the walls and tables set between them and the bar that ran along the opposite side of the room. The floor was the same black and white checked linoleum, but the Laminate table and counter-tops looked clean and the vinyl seats weren't cracked. There was a warmth to the place, and even though it didn't look like anything special I got the feeling that it was the atmosphere that made it David's favorite place.

We weren't the only people at Mike's for breakfast, but David still managed to snag us a booth in front of the window sliding in opposite me.

Now that we were here, it was like neither of us knew what to say or do as we sat in silence.

Both of us were startled when a waitress chirpily asked, "What can I get you two?"

My head jerked towards her and I didn't blame her for the amused grin that spread across her plum-painted lips. She pulled a small notepad out of the pocket of the apron that was wrapped across her waist and tapped a pen against it teasingly. "You wanting your usual, Hatter?" She asked.

"Uh, yes," David replied. "Thanks Avery."

"And you?" Avery grinned at me.

Panicking, I looked across at David with wide eyes, "I, don't actually know. What's good?"

"Oh honey," Avery chuckled. "I'm gonna get you The Special."

"The Special?" I repeated with raised eyebrows. "As in capital 'T' and 'S'?"

"That's the one," She confirmed. "Now, coffee?"

I shook my head – coffee and I did _not_ mix well – and asked, "Can I just have orange juice, please?"

"Absolutely."

As Avery walked off, I asked David, "The Special isn't like the Sweeney Todd of breakfast foods, right?"

Laughing, he said, "No – not at all. Don't worry, completely human-free."

And just like that, any awkwardness between the two of us was gone.

When Avery next returned, the two of us were laughing at a joke that David had just told. When she placed a stack of pancakes piled 6 high covered in whipped cream, syrup, bacon and blueberries I honestly thought I'd died and gone to breakfast-food heaven.

"Thank you, so much," I told Avery with my eyes glued on the food in front of me.

I didn't even notice that she had left, I only had eyes for the gorgeous food sitting on the plate in front of me.

"If you don't finish it –"

I cut David off, "Oh, are you doubting my ability to eat all of this? Because you, my friend, would be sorely mistaken."

"I'm kind of getting the feeling that there's something going on between you and those pancakes – should I be feeling threatened?"

"Only if you decide to come between us," I grinned over at him while cutting into my food.

"I'll remember that."

"So," I started after swallowing a mouthful of what was quite frankly the best pancakes I'd ever tasted in my entire life. Like, they were probably the best tasting pancakes in the history of everything. "David Hatter, barista and diner connoisseur, tell me about yourself."

"What can I say," He shrugged. "You've got me in a nutshell right there."

Ah, funny guy.

"What's something you're proud of?" I asked. "Something you're really good at."

"E-flat, diminished ninth," David nodded before taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Took me a bit, but I finally mastered it about 2 months ago."

I was silent for a moment before bursting out into giggles, "Impressive."

"Hey, it's no joke," David smirked. "That's a real man's chord – people have lost fingers trying."

"Oh, I'm sure," I grinned. "So you play...guitar?"

"Yeah – I'm actually in a band."

"Of course you are," I said. "Lead singer too?"

"That's right," He gave a half-smile. "Why do I get the feeling you're judging me on this?"

"I'm just surprised it wasn't the first thing you told me," I replied lightly with a teasing smile. "Surely that must get you all the girls?"

"I don't know," He leaned towards me slightly and winked. "Is it working?"

"Hmm," I tilted my head to the side. "To be honest, right now the pancakes are working more in your favor."

Eyeing my half-finished stack of buttery syrupy goodness he stated, "I can see that."

"I like pancakes," I shrugged. "They're stackable. And waffles, cos you can stick things in the little holes if you want to."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," A sudden look of worry crossed his face. "If there is a next time? Would that be something you'd be, uh, interested in?"

Smiling slyly at him I lightly replied, "Ask me again when I've finished my breakfast."

"You can count on it."

"So, what's the name of your band McFly?" I asked with a quirk of my eyebrow.

Laughing at the reference, he answered, "Imaginary Heroes. But, well, we haven't played all that much. A couple of open mic nights. Mostly my parents garage." His eyes lit up and he leaned forward towards me, "But, we are auditioning to play at the winter formal next week."

"That's actually pretty cool," I took my time chewing while smiling at the adorable blush that darkened his cheeks as he ducked his head.

"What about you?" He asked. "What's something you're proud of?"

Taking down 5 Uber-Vamps without puking? Making Mr. Pointy? Disarming Kevin while fencing for the first time? Impressing Buffy Summers with my improvisational slayering and graduating in the top 3 of my training group?

"Hand brake turn," I nodded my head in confirmation before elaborating. "I've always been a little obsessed with stunt driving. When I passed my test, my dad surprised me with a set of stunt driving lessons. One of the first ones was how to do a hand brake turn."

The look on David's face was one of astonishment, I imagined that was pretty much the last thing he expected me to say. Not many teenage girls would be an honest fan of stunt driving, even with movies like the Fast and Furious series becoming increasingly popular.

"Stunt driving?" He said. "That's, like, ridiculously awesome. Is that what you want to do after school?"

I used to. Now I'll be too busy trying to live past 20 to have time to break into the Hollywood stunt scene. I'll probably have to get a job flipping burgers or waiting tables, something that could deal with the weird hours I'll have to keep while fighting the forces of darkness. But, of course, I couldn't tell him that.

So instead I forced a smile and said, "Yeah, that's exactly it."

"That is way more impressive than E-flat, diminished ninth," David complimented me, and it was my turn to blush, the smile becoming a lot more naturally. But he seemed to have that effect on me – I couldn't remember the last time I had genuinely smiled this much.

"Oh come on, it's not that impressive."

"Hey," He waved his fork in my direction. "You're like an action hero or something."

Man, you don't even know the half of it.

The entire drive back to my house he alternated between teasing me about how I managed to eat the entire Special and asking me not to judge his poor driving. I had to admit, having a morning off from being a slayer was pretty darn nice. Being able to act like a normal 16 year old girl, knowing that Derek was safe at home with Kevin and since Stiles hadn't contacted me I could only assume that Scott wasn't in immediate mortal peril.

I liked David. He made me feel normal.

That's why when he walked me to my front door and with a half-smile asked if I wanted to do this again, the only answer I had for him was, "Yes."

When it came to David Hatter, normal was the watch-word.

* * *

" _He took you on a breakfast date? That is too cute!"_

Dawn was so excited that all I could see was her large grin and the tip of her nose as she leaned too close to the camera and squealed.

Leaning back in my desk chair I couldn't help but laugh, "It was pretty darn adorable."

" _I can't believe you're finally on Facebook too! Now I'll be able to put faces to all the people you talk about – except Derek, you're not friends with him. Is he too good for Facebook? Is it, like, too mainstream for the lone werewolf with a tragic back-story?"_

Snorting, I grabbed my computer and said to her, "Probably. But if you want to know what he looks like that much it's actually a pretty easy fix." I paused and gave her a mock-stern look before warning, "Don't go falling in love with him."

Last I checked Derek was down in the basement working out, making sure that the wolfsbane hadn't caused any long-lasting effects from being in his system for so long. Holding my finger up to my mouth and telling a giggling Dawn to shush, I spun the computer around so the camera was facing ahead of me and made my way downstairs.

When I made it to the bottom of the stairs it was to the view of Derek's back and shoulder muscles pulling and flexing as he did pull-ups using the bar that ran from one end of the room to the other.

If I heard Dawn's sharp intake of breath, Derek definitely did.

As he turned around I waved at him from behind the computer and said chirpily, "Hey Derek, meet my friend Dawn."

Looking understandably bemused, Derek frowned at the screen where I hoped Dawn wasn't doing anything embarrassing. _"Hi!"_ Her voice squeaked out of the speakers.

"I was just, uh, giving her a tour of the house since she's back at HQ," I explained lamely to the older werewolf. "So, Dawn, this is the basement where I keep all the training equipment, weapons, and broody werewolves. Next on our tour is the kitchen – the most important room in the house since that's where the food is." Holding the camera closer to Derek I added, "Say goodbye to Derek."

" _B-bye Derek."_

"Later, McBroody," I told him with a salute before booking it up the stairs and closing the basement door behind me.

Spinning the computer around I saw Dawn squirming in her chair, her long nutmeg brown hair swishing around her shoulders as she stared at me with round blue eyes. "Not yet," I warned her in a low voice. "Wait until I'm back upstairs."

Taking the stairs two at a time, I shut my bedroom door behind me and jumped back onto my bed bouncing twice before turning the volume down once I saw how flushed Dawn's fair skin was with the effort to keep quiet. "Alright," I said in a hushed tone. "It's safe."

Well, as safe as can be when sharing a house with someone who has superhero hearing.

" _OHMYGOD!"_ Dawn screeched, her hands bunched up in front of her face. _"He's gorgeous! Like, Angel gorgeous. Or Spike gorgeous. Oh,_ don't _let Buffy ever meet him – he'd be just her type! All tortured and mysterious and supernatural and ohmygod those eyes! You should make him be shirtless, like, all of the time. He should never wear a shirt, it's an offense to nature."_

"Are you finished?" I asked with a laugh as her breathless rambling came to an end.

" _Is he still working out? We should go watch him work out. We can call out encouragement and you can throw a bucket of water on him or something."_ Her blue eyes grew even wider as visions of a wet Derek ran rampant through her mind and she stared unfocused to the side of the screen.

"Stop objectifying Derek!" My attempt to sound stern was completely ruined by the snort I couldn't suppress.

" _Fine!"_ Dawn dramatically flapped a hand around her face. _"Gosh, you're no fun!"_

"How's everyone over there?" I asked, despite the new friends I'd made in Beacon Hills I still missed my friends back at HQ. Willow, the resident witch who rambled more than I did and was the most adorable computer nerd I'd ever met. Xander, the one-eyed Watcher who made terrible pirate jokes and got all of my comic-book references. Faith, the other capital 'S' slayer who was tough and blunt and had absolutely no stories that were rated less than 'R' and no issues with telling them to anyone who was interested in listening. Giles, Buffy's Watcher and just as British as Kevin was – I wondered if they missed their tea dates where they would drink scotch out of tea-cups and hope we wouldn't notice. Andrew, the trainee Watcher who made more Pop Culture references than the entire team put together. And, lastly, Buffy – the leader, Original Slayer, and my low-key girl crush.

" _We're doing alright – we've got Willow locating more and more new slayers every day."_ She answered, calming down and switching over to a seriousness that she rarely displayed. Dawn lived up to her name, even when scared or worried she was a bright ray of optimism and bad jokes. _"Some are, like, really young though. It seems whatever magical whosiwotsit she worked decided to activate every slayer at that moment, whether they were eight or eighteen. There's been a lot of scared parents and children. Like, there was this one girl who accidentally broke her brothers arm while playing football in the backyard. And another one who put her elementary school bully in a coma. Buffy was really conflicted about taking her away from her parents, eight's way too young but at the same time we've got to train you guys so you don't hurt anyone by accident. It's like actually being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Major suckage."_

"Yeah," I agreed, trying not to think about how my family would have reacted if I'd been Called younger. Or while they were still alive. "It's definitely a messy situation."

" _That's for sure,"_ Dawn sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before tangling it in her hair. _"This whole situation definitely isn't 100% of the good. More like, 65% – 70% on a good day."_

Remembering my time back at HQ, I knew what she meant by 'good day'. It meant a day with minimal crying. With minimal yelling and screaming and blame. I didn't envy Buffy, in those moments. Sometimes I'd wonder if she'd thought it through, Calling all of us at the same time. If she considered the consequences. And then I'd think that if I'd been in her place, desperate and afraid in the face of an unstoppable enemy – the First Evil, capital F _and_ E – if I'd have done the same thing.

" _Enough gloominess!"_ Dawn chirped, her round blue eyes held the worry she was trying to hide with an exuberant grin. I decided to let it go, for now. I knew Dawn would fill me in when she was ready. We didn't push because we knew we'd find out eventually. It was one of the many aspects of our friendship I appreciated. _"Tell me more about your date – spare no detail because as you recall I'm living vicariously through you. I'm wanting the same amount of detail as the romance novels Buffy used to hide under her bed with the half-naked guys on the cover. You get bonus points for the words 'heaving bosom' and 'galloping abs'."_

Galloping abs? What kind of romance novels did Buffy read? Poorly translated foreign ones?

Snorting, I shook my head in amusement and settled down more comfortably on my bed. If Dawn wanted a dramatic retelling of my date, then by the Gods she'd get one. Heaving bosoms and all.

* * *

The sound of sirens filled the still night air as I ran across the roof-tops of Beacon Hills, Scott and I on either side of Derek.

I had stop myself from calling out 'parkour' every time Scott or Derek did an unnecessary flip.

We approached the flashing red and blue lights that cast the parking lot of the video store in undulating shadows, Derek ushering us up onto the roof of the building as we were unable to get any closer thanks to the cops and paramedics that moved below.

"Whoa! Is that a dead body?"

My eyes zeroed in on Stiles as he gaped at a black body-bag being wheeled past him, and I had to agree with the sound of exasperation his father made.

No, Stiles, that isn't a dead body. It's a submarine.

"Stiles! Go and wait in the car!" The sheriff barked out before turning back towards the person he was speaking to, probably getting a witness statement.

Once I recognized who the sheriff was talking to, all reason fled my mind.

I vaguely heard Derek and Scott telling me to stop, and fingers wrapping around my wrist before I wrenched free from their grip, but regardless I dropped down the side of the building with little thought to who might see me. I'm sure that in my panic I may have exerted a little bit of slayer speed as I sprinted across the parking lot, dodging various emergency workers who tried to stop me, not stopping until I plowed face-first into a very solid chest.

"What the shit!" Jackson swore as I wrapped my arms around him tightly before springing back. His hands were left hovering somewhere around my waist as though he had started to return the hug but had then gotten conflicted about it.

Grabbing his chin firmly, I pulled his face down to mine and inspected him for any injuries, and once he realized I was the one man-handling him he stopped struggling and let me continue with a roll of his eyes. Once I was satisfied that the lone scratch above his eyebrow and the bruising dusting one side of his jaw were purely superficial, I gripped his biceps and raked the rest of his body with my eyes for any further injuries.

Specifically, bite marks.

Patience finally running out, Jackson gently swatted me away, grumbling, "I'm fine, just got pinned under some shelves. Quit it with the inspection. All for The Goddamned Notebook."

"Notebook?" I cocked my head to the side before it clicked. _The Notebook._ There was only one person that would make him watch that.

"Lydia!" I grabbed onto Jackson's arms again and he took half a step backwards, probably worried I was going to start hugging him once more. "Where's Lydia?"

"Over there," He motioned behind him with a tilt of his head, where an ambulance sat parked with a few paramedics milling around outside of it. "She's okay – was in the car the whole time."

Squeezing once, I let go of Jackson before whirling towards the back of the open ambulance.

Lydia was sitting on the gurney, a blanket draped around her shoulders as she stared blankly across the vehicle. I'd seen shock enough times since becoming a slayer – and experienced it myself – to know that that was exactly what was wrong with Lydia.

Ignoring the paramedics trying to shoo me away, I hauled myself up into the back of the ambulance and crouch down in front of Lydia, placing my hands on her knees. Two of my friends had almost been victims of an Alpha werewolf attack. If they thought there was anyway they could keep me away, they were kidding themselves.

Large green eyes stared blank holes through my face and her hair hung limply over her shoulders. "Hey, Lydia," I spoke gently to her. "It's Fred."

As though my voice alone was enough to penetrate whatever fugue state she was stuck in, her pupils rapidly contracted and expanded before finally focusing on me. I was caught unaware as her arms went around my neck in a drowning grip and she buried her face in my clavicle, breath hot against the skin of my throat.

Beneath her shaky breaths and the noise surrounding us, I could hear her whispering:

" _Why were it's eyes red?"_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thankyou to evewrites for being my beta =)**

 **Hi Guys! Sorry it took so long, I was on holiday in Hawaii and only got back home a few days ago.**

 **But there we go! Fred and David finally had their date. And Dawn met Derek. Lucky her! And now we jump into the latest Alpha Attack!**

 **randomcassie8: I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! And Fred's always been a badass, it's just now she gets to show it off! haha**

 **TinyCurmudgeon: I loved Kevin in that scene. Like, no drama for him. "Oh? You're not dead? Excellent, I do so hate when that happens." And I'm happy you're enjoying my little changes to the story-line now that Fred's there. Also, 'lone wolf'? - badum-ting!**

 **Montanasmith5897: Welcome! I'm very happy to hear you're enjoying the story and the dynamic between all the characters. That's always the hardest thing with OC's, making sure they have their own little realistic niche in the cast.**

 **finish-her: Welcome! Thank you so much for your review and kind words. I'm stoked to have another fan of the Fred/Derek BROTP on-board! Plus, I love Fred and Jackson, so I love that you do too! Man, I can't wait to get to Fred and Stiles, but her and Hatter will be pretty darn adorable until then.**

 **As always, please let me know what you're thinking - reviews literally give me life since half the reason I write this is for my readers. So I really do appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to flick me a line.**

 **-SusieSamurai (Kam)**


	11. Watchers Watch, Slayers Slay

**Chapter 11 – Watcher's Watch, Slayer's Slay**

 _I'll never be, be what you see inside,_

 _You say I'm not alone, but I am petrified._

 _You say that you are close, is close the closest star?_

 _You just feel twice as far, you just feel twice as far._

 _Fake You Out/Twenty One Pilots_

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, nor do I earn any form of profit from this work of fiction.****

* * *

I don't know how long I crouched on the floor of that ambulance while Lydia clung to me. Long enough for Sheriff Stilinski to finish collecting Jackson's witness statement. Long enough for the backs of my calves to get tight and start to burn with pins and needles. Long enough for Lydia's whimpers to subside and her nails to leave behind half-crescent indents in my skin.

I walked the two of them over to Lydia's VW Beetle, my mind racing with everything that had happened. I was so preoccupied that the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles barely affected me like they usually would, stirring up memories I was trying hard to forget.

Trying to detach Lydia from my arm and place her in the passenger seat took a bit more effort than I had expected, but eventually I managed it, leaning over her to click her seat-belt in place. After watching her continue to shiver for a moment, I unraveled the thick green woolen scarf from my neck and wound it around hers instead, gently lifting her hair away. I wasn't surprised when she buried her nose into the soft fabric and wrapped her arms around her middle as tightly as she could.

Closing the door, I moved across to where Jackson was standing hesitantly by the drivers side. His brow was furrowed as he looked away from where his girlfriend sat motionless and those impossibly blue eyes of him met mine. I knew better than to comment on the anger that lit them up, anger born from feeling helpless.

It was an emotion I was all too familiar with.

While capable of being an idiot, Jackson was by no means stupid. He knew it wasn't a mountain lion attack, he just wasn't ready to face what he already knew on a primal level. Nobody wanted to accept that the monsters under their bed were real.

"Don't leave her alone tonight," I told him, tipping my head in Lydia's direction. "She's gonna need you."

When the nightmares started, Lydia was going to need Jackson to grab ahold of. And even though he wouldn't admit it, he needed her too.

Grimacing down at me Jackson crossed his arms across his chest defensively, "Isn't that what her mom's for? Jesus, if you care that much sleep with her yourself."

Rolling my eyes as he tried far too hard to act as though he didn't care, I replied, "I can't. So drop the tough-guy act for five seconds and spend the night with your girlfriend."

Seriously, I needed to convince a teenage boy to spend the night in his girlfriends bed? Jackson needed to stop being so concerned about what other people thought about him. It's not like they were going to revoke his membership to The League of Manliness for admitting that he wasn't okay. Was there even a League of Manliness? Did they have a High Council? Was their president The Rock? I bet it was The Rock.

After a minute of silent eye-contact Jackson broke it to stare sullenly to the side. "Fine, I'll stay with her if it means that damn much to you." He muttered.

My lips curved into a proud smile and I had to stop myself from patting him on the shoulder, knowing he wouldn't appreciate a gesture that in his eyes would be patronising. Instead I settled for skipping forward and wrapping my arms around his waist once more and squeezing tightly before stepping back again, "Thanks Jackson."

"Whatever," He grumbled. "Can I go home now?"

"What? Oh, yeah," I smiled up at him. "I'll see you at school on Monday."

Watching Jackson and Lydia pull out of the parking lot I finally allowed my grin to fall and the worry seep back into my features. The last thing I needed was them to pick up on just how much of a thing this was snowballing into. They didn't need my stress and concern adding to the cocktail of negative emotions they were currently wrestling with themselves.

I had taken no less than three steps when someone cleared their throat behind me and a mans voice said, "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

Spinning around I found Daddy Stilinski looking at me expectantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

Truthfully? Make Derek use his Scooby Doo nose to scour Beacon Hills until we found the Alpha and I introduced him to Lord Stabbington. Or, maybe The Huntsman would be more fitting – because he was a wolf.

Instead I answered, "Home of course, Sir." Before giving him a chance to comment, I thrust a hand towards him, "Nice to meet you, Sheriff Stilinski. I'm Fred Ackerman, I'm one of your son's friends."

Ignoring the bemused look on his face, I leaned sideways to wave behind him at the pale face pressed up against the window of the police cruiser. "Hi Stiles!" I called, my smile widening as his mouth dropped open in surprise and he scrambled away from the window to slump down casually in his seat instead.

"You're Fred?" Surprise lit up Daddy Stilinski's blue eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. "I'm sorry, it's just whenever Stiles mentioned you I just assumed you were..."

"A boy?" I offered with a grin.

"Well, yes," He answered sheepishly.

"It's alright," I lifted on shoulder up in a shrug as I took a tentative step backwards in the hopes of a quick getaway. "I won't hold it against you."

"Glad to hear it," He said before pinning me with a knowing glance reminiscent of my own father. "Now, as I'm sure a smart girl like you is aware, we've got a curfew in place at the moment." I nodded yes, quickly putting together the dots in my head as to where this conversation was going. And coming up with an absolute blank on the excuse front. Gods dammit Fred. "So, my question is why were you here so late?"

Forcing out a laugh I gestured at the video rental store next to us, the large front window a mess of broken glass and yellow police tape, "I was here renting a movie – obviously. Why else would I be at the video store?"

Daddy Stilinski made a show of looking around the parking lot, "I don't see a car anywhere?"

"I was out jogging," I blurted out. "Yeah, I was out jogging and thought 'you know what this Saturday night needs – _The Notebook'._ "

That was a terrible lie. I knew it was a terrible lie. He knew it was a terrible lie. But I couldn't tell the Sheriff 'you see, I was out hunting the same serial killer you are with my two friends because it's a werewolf. And hey! They're werewolves too!', so I was pretty much stuck with my very poor spontaneous lying skills.

Much like his son did the first time we met, Daddy Stilinski swept his eyes critically over what I was wearing and even I knew I couldn't make skinny jeans, boots and a leather jacket fly as jogging attire. I could just hear the sarcastic 'uh huh' hanging in the air. So I opted to just tilt my head to the side and smile up at the older man as innocently as I could while making my eyes as large as possible. A technique I hadn't had to use since my father was around. I hoped the last five months hadn't made me lose my touch. He used to joke that my head tilt was dangerous, and that if I flipped my hair I could own a man.

After a long moment, Daddy Stilinski ran a hand over his hair and sighed. "Come on," He said. "I'll give you a ride home."

As he turned towards the cruiser, I knew it wasn't an offer I was allowed to refuse. So instead I replied politely, "Thank you, Sir."

Blowing a breath out in frustration, making my bangs flutter about my nose before shaking them irritably aside, I followed behind the Sheriff. The closer we got to the cruiser, however, the more my hands seemed to shake. I stuffed them in my jacket pockets, acutely aware of Stiles watching me, and instead concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as my eyes tried to settle on everything but the police cruiser.

It had been over five months since I'd been in a cruiser. And that cruiser had been my mom's.

I had been riding shotgun, keeping her company on a case, the two of us drinking hot chocolate and quizzing each other on police codes. I had been telling her about the cheerleading squad and how there had been some drama with two of the girls dating the same boy, and she had been laughing at the absurdity of high school antics calling it all 'very MTV'.

And I was about to get into another cruiser, but it wasn't hers. It wouldn't smell of chocolate and the cloying spice of her perfume that brought to mind cinnamon and jasmine. She wouldn't be sitting behind the wheel smiling over at me from behind her cliched mirrored aviators that dad had bought her for Christmas one year.

She wouldn't be there.

I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath until Daddy Stilinski asked me a question and I had to gasp for breath in order to answer him.

Eyeing me with something bordering concern, he repeated, "Where do you live?"

Swallowing down my memories, my hands shaking even worse inside my pockets, I answered, "Over on Higgins. Big yellow house. Can't miss it."

Rapping his knuckles on the glass next to Stiles' head, Daddy Stilinski made shooing gestures as he told his son, "Nice girls sit up front, delinquents ride in the back."

I felt the breath catch in my throat again as I looked at the passenger seat so similar to the one I sat in with my mother. With a strange choking noise that caused both Stilinski's to stare at me, Stiles half-way out of his seat, I cleared my throat and said, "Actually, I'd rather ride in the back – if you don't mind?"

I wasn't aware I was shifting uncomfortably until Stiles' brown gaze narrowed in on me – that kid was ridiculously perceptive, no wonder he figured out that Scott was a werewolf before Scott himself did. The moment was broken when Stiles slipped and fell forward, catching his foot on the edge of the door, luckily catching himself on his hands before his face hit the black-top.

With a sigh that spoke of years of dealing with his son's clumsiness, Daddy Stilinski hauled him up by his shoulder. "You're the first kid I've met that has passed up on being shotgun," He commented bemusedly while opening the back-door for me.

Forcing a cheeky grin I answered, "Hey, I might still ask for the sirens yet."

Or not. Probably not. Definitely not. No sirens please.

As his father was closing the door behind me I heard Stiles say, "Her mom was a cop, dad – I doubt it's her first ride in a cruiser. Also, she's not five."

I froze half-way through doing up my seat-belt. Thanks, Stiles, now the entire ride home would be full of questions about my parents. Goody.

Naturally Daddy Stilinski's cruiser was different to the one my mother had used, but the whole situation still hit a little too close to home for my liking. I was already picking out what type of muffins I'd be baking later. At least with tomorrow being Sunday how little sleep I got wouldn't matter.

Maybe I could take up knitting? By the time fall came around I might be good enough to gift everyone with Halloween sweaters.

The sound of the front doors shutting startled me out of my thoughts and I berated myself for being so distracted. A distracted slayer was a dead slayer, even a slayer sitting in the back-seat of a police cruiser. Like the Alpha would go, 'oh no, I can't get to them because of old Johnny Law, dang it.'

That being said, so far the Alpha hadn't struck me as stupid. But that didn't give me a free pass to let my guard down. We knew next to nothing about this creature so far except that it had some kind of vendetta against the people of Beacon Hills – maybe that also extended to Sheriff's with annoying sons.

As Daddy Stilinski started the cruiser and started to pull out of the parking lot, he said over his shoulder, "So Fred, Stiles has mentioned that you've only recently moved to Beacon Hills?"

"That's right, Sir," I answered politely, sticking my still trembling hands out of sight between my knees. "My uncle and I just moved from Scotland."

"Scotland?" Daddy Stilinski sounded surprised. "No offense, but you don't exactly sound Scottish."

Forcing out a short laugh I said, "That's because I'm not, sir, I was just there on exchange for a semester."

"And are you liking it here?" Daddy Stilinski asked, adding with a side-glance to Stiles riding shotgun, "The other kids playing nice?"

Slanting my eyes over towards where Stiles had stiffened in his seat, no doubt filled with righteous anger that his father was implying he had been anything less than welcoming towards me, I let out a genuine laugh. "That they are, Sir. That being said, since my uncle's the school librarian if I was being bullied it would be taken care of pretty quickly."

"You're uncle's the librarian?"

"You've actually met him before," I offered absentmindedly. "Last week? When he got your guys to release my cousin."

"Your cousin...?" Daddy Stilinski trailed off in thought. "Last week? The only person we had in was Derek Hale... Derek Hale's your cousin?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered, ignoring the look Stiles stealthily shot me over his shoulder, narrowed brown eyes peering at me through the cage separating the front and back of the cruiser. If I wanted to stick to that story, then I would. It might even deter the two boys from deciding to try and throw Derek under the bus later on if it suited them.

"Oh," Daddy Stilinski said, probably because he couldn't think of anything appropriate like 'sorry for arresting your cousin'. "Wait... your uncle's a _librarian_?"

A muffled snort escaped me. I couldn't help it. The sheer amount of disbelief in Daddy Stilinski's voice at the idea of Kevin being a librarian was comical. I understood that with his broad shoulders, facial hair, and dark tailored suits Kevin often looked more like a character from a Guy Ritchie film, but thanks to Watcher Academy he definitely didn't have the personality for it. Unless they wanted the guy that was secretly a massive dork.

We pulled up in front of my house a few minutes later and by that point the moment of levity had faded and my anxiety had returned with a vengeance. All I wanted was to get out of this car. Knee bouncing as I waited for Stiles to open the door for me, I all but burst out onto the side-walk almost bowling the guy over.

Shooting out a hand to steady Stiles, I gave him an apologetic smile and closed the cruiser door a bit more gracefully than my exit while he got back in the car with his brow scrunched in thought.

Ducking my head down to peer through his window at Daddy Stilinski I gave the older man a small wave, "Thank you for the ride home, Sir."

"You're welcome," He smiled back at me with soft blue eyes that were very similar to my own father's. "It was nice to meet you – I'm glad my son has friends other than Scott."

Pushing off the window-sill I took a step back, "Well, I'm sure I'll see you again soon. Drive safe! Bye Stiles."

When Kevin found me half an hour later I was standing in the backyard stripped down to a sweat-dampened tank as I repeatedly drove my fists into the large cottonwood tree. My unrelentlesss assault had long cracked apart the moss covered crust and begun to wear the patch of bark beneath it smooth.

I had started in the basement, but had since moved outside after punching the boxing-bag clear across the room.

A warm body stood at my side and large hands gently grasped my wrists, forcing me to stop. Stubbornly, I refused to look up, instead staring at where Kevin was cradling my bleeding hands.

"I'm fine," I told him from behind a curtain of hair.

"You don't look fine," Kevin remarked in concern, red smearing across his tanned skin as he ran his thumbs over my torn knuckles.

Sucking air in though my teeth as the burning pain finally broke through the shell of numbness I'd encased myself in, my voice was sharp in the chilled air, "Then stop looking."

"But I have to," He pointed out conversationally. "Watcher's watch, Slayer's slay – remember?" He chuckled, "And you sure showed that tree what for. I always thought it was a shifty looking bugger."

A wet laugh escaped despite myself while Kevin grabbed my discarded jacket and sweater from the ground, wrapping an arm around me before leading me back inside.

"Come on, love. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Leaving me slouched on the sofa while he fetched the first aid kit, Kevin soon returned and sat opposite me on the the coffee-table with our knees brushing. His movements were gentle as he cleaned the blood and splinters of wood from my skin, his eyes focused on what he was doing instead of on me. I appreciated that, it made the next words I said come forth a little easier.

"Sheriff Stilinski gave me a ride home – there was another attack tonight at the video store."

Though his dark brow furrowed, Kevin didn't look up from his work as he asked, "In his cruiser?"

"Yeah," I answered in a small voice, concentrating on the pain in my hands and the quick efficient movements of his fingers. "It reminded of mom."

There was the briefest pause of his fingers, a blink and you'll miss it hesitation, before he continued his ministrations. "You're allowed to grieve, love," He told me in a soft voice. "It's part of being human."

"A distracted slayer is a dead slayer," I stubbornly recited. "Or my distraction might cause someone else to die. Doesn't that mean a slayer isn't really given the luxury of grief?"

At the desperation in my voice, Kevin's dark eyes met mine and I was surprised by the ferocity of emotion in them. "Something I think a lot of people forget is that slayers are first and foremost human. And that involves the whole messy plethora of human emotion. You suffered a great tragedy, love. And the fact that other people too have suffered loss, and will suffer loss, makes your experience no less valid. You're an open wound," He explained, squeezing my fingers gently. "And you need to let yourself heal."

To be honest, I'd never really thought of it like that. Despite Kevin's best attempts I hadn't really given myself time to fully process the death of my family. It was something I continuously pushed away with the excuse that I'd have time once all the fighting was done – but as a slayer the fighting was never done. First there was Sunnydale, with the First Evil and the Hellmouth and the Buffy. Then there was Basic Training at HQ, where girls competed against each other for the attention and validation of our war hero instructors. And just when I had reached the end of it, when I thought that I might be allowed a moment to catch my breath, they had shipped me off to Beacon Hills. Landing me smack dab in the middle of a werewolf vendetta.

It wasn't fair. But then again, the last year had taught me that life wasn't fair.

Taking my silence as disagreement, Kevin finished bandaging my hands and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, yeah?" He asked, ducking his head in an attempt to meet my eyes.

Shrugging, I smiled at him even though it didn't quite meet my eyes, "I'll try."

Maybe this time though, I would.

* * *

Monday morning I woke up to fading images of blue and white balloons and a sharp pain in my stomach to the right of my belly-button.

Not only did I still have an emotional hang-over from Saturday night, I'd have to head to school fresh off the end of another replay of my prophetic dream still no closer to figuring out what it meant. Except for the obvious danger the Alpha represented for me and my friends.

At the very least, I supposed I had _Top Model_ and a bowl of popcorn tonight after Kevin got back from the parent-teacher interviews after school.

Another thing that wasn't helping my morning was Stiles Stilinski trailing me around like a lost puppy since Scott had decided to skip school with Allison for a day of fun couple-filled frivolities.

"Do you think the Alpha was targeting Lydia maybe?"

"I don't know, Stiles," I replied, hitching my messenger-bag higher on my shoulder as I headed towards English with Stile walking backwards in front of me. I had already intervened twice when he came too close to bumping into someone or pulled him back up by the strap of his back-pack when he stumbled and almost fell on his ass. Which happened enough for me to be five seconds from just permanently holding onto him or encasing him in a giant hamster-ball a la Jake Gyllenhaal in Bubble Boy.

"There has to be some kind of connection with all the victims so far – have you and Kevin managed to figure out any similarities between the deaths?" Stiles managed to narrowly avoid hitting a Freshman in the face with his wild hand gestures as he fired yet another question at me.

"No we haven't." Thanks for rubbing that in there Stiles.

"Well, what about Lydia? Is she alright? She's not at school – did she get hurt?"

"I don't know, Stiles," I burst exasperatedly, stopping in the middle of the hall to touch my fingers to my temples as I felt a headache beginning to form and not for the first time I wished I'd managed to get more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep last night. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

Something in my voice must of given him pause as he came to a stop too and leaned forward slightly, peering into my face with narrowed eyes. "Are you sleeping alright? How much sleep are you getting at night? Do slayers need eight like everyone else or can they function on more? Can they function on less? Do you even sleep? Sorry – dumb question, of course you sleep I've seen your jammies." He eventually seemed to register my blank stare and asked, concerned, "You just seem tired, is all?"

"I wonder why," I rolled my eyes good-naturedly before managing a small quirk of the side of my mouth. "I'm fine Stiles, just regular slayer sleeping patterns." To avoid more questions I let slip a little something else that had started yesterday and had led to a slightly embarrassing moment with Derek in the afternoon, "It's just the start of Shark Week is all."

Entire face scrunched up in confusion, Stiles started muttering dates to himself before asking, "Shark Week's not till July, isn't it?"

Letting out a genuine chuckle, I explained, "You know – _Shark Week_? Blood in the water?"  
As Stiles just seemed to be getting more confused, I relented and moved closer before whispering, "I'm on my period, Boy Wonder."

Realization spread across his face as his eyes grew comically large. I couldn't help but laugh as he glanced down in the general area of my crotch before flicking back up to my face and back at least five times. "Oh – _oh_ ," He stuttered out. "I-I see. _Shark Week_ – hah! Funny."

Wow, if I'd known all it would take was a mention of the menstrual-cycle to shut him up I would have shared this information hours ago. I considered Stiles a friend, on the way to being a pretty good friend actually – like Level Ten at least – but thanks to the events of the last few days my patience was pretty much nonexistent at this point. I was proud I hadn't resorted to threats of physical violence yet, apparently I was prone to assault.

Patting him lightly on the shoulder, I slipped by him and continued on my way to class.

"See you at lunch, Stilinski!"

Turns out I didn't see Stiles at lunch, as he had decided to skip last period and go round to Lydia's house and confirm for himself that she wasn't in any danger of dying. This meant that I was able to get through the rest of the day in relative peace, with the only incident of any interest being Danny telling me about how much of a douchecanoe his boyfriend had been lately. I kinda wish he'd taken my suggestion of telling the guy to get lost seriously though – the more I learned the more I wanted to punch him in the face.

I was pleasantly surprised when after school Jackson dropped down onto the floor next to me, where I was hiding out in the stacks of the library waiting for Kevin to be finished with the parent-teacher interviews and take me home.

Putting my book aside I smiled over at him, "Hey Jackson, to be honest I wasn't sure if you even knew where the library was."

"Very funny, Ackerman," He rolled his eyes at me, stretching his long legs out in front of him and I was amused when my feet ended at his mid-calf. Compared to Jackson, I looked like a child apparently.

"How you doing?" I asked, nudging him lightly with my shoulder.

"Honestly? I freaking wish everyone would stop asking that," He replied grumpily, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh-kay then," I conceded. "What episode of Dragon Ball Z: Abridged are you up to then?"

"Seventeen," He answered automatically, before grimacing as he realised what he'd just admitted to watching.

"I knew you'd love it!" I crowed, nudging him again with my shoulder while his lips twitched with the effort of not smiling. "Don't smile Jackson – don't you dare smile now!"

"You're so lame," He groaned.

"So I've been told," I said. "But you must admit, there's something about my dorky charm that just pulls people in."

Shrugging, he shot me a suspiciously cheeky look and said, "Well, it's certainly not your chest."

"Jackson Whittemore!" I slapped a hand playfully against his chest in mock-offense.

He simply smiled at me unapologetically before the pair of us burst into laughter. And it felt good. It was nice to take a moment away from all of the supernatural and the expectations of divine callings and just have an utter pointless conversation with a friend.

"I'm...I'm glad you're talking to me again," He confessed, staring down at our feet while his jaw twitched with the effort of being honest with me. Of letting down his Jackass Image. "It sucks that it took being attacked by a mountain lion in a video store."

"Then stop being such a dick," I told him honestly. "If you actually tried you might like Scott – he's a really nice guy."

"He was a nobody until a few weeks ago – and now suddenly everyone thinks he's the greatest lacrosse player Beacon Hills has ever seen!" Jackson's hands clenched into fists as he glowered. "That was me! And I worked damn hard to get there! And now he's just walking through it all like it's no big deal. I mean, come on Fred, you don't do freaking _flips_ in lacrosse – it's not the damn ballet!"

So what was fueling all of Jackson's issues was just good old fashioned jealousy. I had to say I couldn't really blame him from the point of view that it did seem like Scott was just magically amazing at something Jackson had always prided himself on being the best at. It was a massive blow to your ego when someone upstaged you, it made you doubt yourself.

And it looked as though Jackson might be on the way to a full existential meltdown.

"Alright," I said, tucking one leg underneath me and pivoting to face him. Grabbing one of his fists in my hands I tugged insistently until he looked at me, "I've got something to tell you buddy – Scott being good at lacrosse in no way invalidates your own achievements. You're still Jackson 'Jackass' Whittemore – lacrosse captain and straight A student. Sure, your personality can at times leave something to be desired but we all have our crosses to bear. For example, mine is being this intelligent _and_ incredibly good-looking."

Or, you know, being forced to protect the world from the powers of darkness and more than likely die before I see my ten year high school reunion – that one works too.

Narrowing his eyes at me, Jackson said, "I can't help but feel as though your little speech was just a series of back-handed compliments."

"Who knows?" I announced dramatically, throwing my hands up in the air. "Doesn't make it any less true though."

Falling back onto the ground I stretched out on the carpet and kicked my feet in the air before draping them across Jackson's lap. "Speaking of jackasses though – why in the Hell is Danny still with his douchecanoe of a boyfriend?" I asked, cushioning my head on my messenger-bag and looking down my nose at Jackson. Who himself still seemed perplexed as to why my legs were in his lap.

Just deal with it, buddy.

Letting out a sound of disgust, Jackson answered, "I have no freaking clue. Every time I mention the idea of cutting the asshole loose Danny just tells me I don't understand. It's not that hard to understand that the guy needs a good punch in the throat."

"If you do, can I watch?" I joked.

My phone started to ring, vibrating insistently in my jeans pocket and I wiggled my hips as I coaxed it out of the tight denim, ignoring the raised eyebrow Jackson gave me at the movement.

Of course it was Stiles.

"What's happened now?" I asked, smiling apologetically at Jackson who just shook his head in reply.

" _So I was at Lydia's – well, I'm still at Lydia's – and we were talking and she's wearing this little pink nightgown and I swear to God she passed out in my lap, I did not put her head there! And her phone went off so – so I checked it! And there's a video – from Saturday night! There's this video on her phone of the Alpha in all his big wolf-man red eyes of death glory!"_ Stiles was talking about a mile a minute and it actually took me a few moments to catch up to what he was saying.

"There's a what?" I asked dumbly.

" _A video!"_ Stiles repeated frantically, and also sounding like he thought I was an idiot. _"And Scott's not answering his phone since him and Allison decided to be romantic and turn their freaking phone's off! So I'm calling you – what should I do?"_

I thought about it. I thought about Lydia clinging to me in the back of an ambulance muttering about red eyes large teeth. I thought about her laying in her bed at home drugged out of her mind because she still wasn't able to process what exactly it was that she saw.

"Delete it," I told him, ignoring the curious look Jackson was sending me.

" _Wha-? Uh, okay,"_ Stiles stuttered back, seemingly surprised that that was my opinion on the matter. _"Okay I'll delete it."_

I didn't enjoy lying to my friends, I honestly didn't. Lying wasn't something that came easily to me. But in the long-run it may be better for Lydia to simply think the entire incident was nothing more than a shock-induced nightmare.

"Good," I spoke into the phone. "I'll talk to you later, kay?"

" _Sure – I'll see you later."_

Ending the call, I wiggled my phone back in my pocket and looked at Jackson, "Sorry, just Stiles being Stiles."

"I don't know why you're friends with that spaz," Jackson told me, shifting my legs off of his lap and rising to his feet. "I've got to go see Lydia, I promised I'd visit after school – you wanna come?"

"That's a negatory, Vegeta," I replied, leaning back on my hands and tilting my head back to look up at him. "Unfortunately I've got a date at home with some chem homework."

"Not Hatter?" He asked me slyly.

Laughing I shook my head, bangs falling in my eyes before I flicked them back, "Alas, no. Though that would be preferable on account of the enjoyment level."

"You're such a dork," Jackson said by way of farewell before walking off.

Pulling my phone back out I sent a quick text to Stiles:

" _Jackson's on his way back – I suggest you book it fast."_

" _I'm gone"_ Came his reply.

Not even five minutes later my phone buzzed with another text from Stiles:

" _Where are u? I'm hungry and I know u have poptarts."_

With an affectionate sigh I hauled myself to my feet and grabbed my messenger-bag:

" _I'll be there in 10."_

At least I could get him to help me with my homework, God's did I hate chemistry.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hi guys, I'm so sorry this took so long! Just a heads up that I've also done some editing on previous chapters as I've changed Kevin's Face-Claim for David Tennant to DJ Cotrona. It's not imperative to the story for you to read those changes though. As always, thanks go first and foremost to my beta Eve - thank you so much!**

 **Please let me know what you all think of this chapter, I am sooooo unsure about it. I know there wasn't a lot of action, but next chapter we get some brilliant Slayer/Argent conflict and tension going on. We're also getting so incredibly close to Night School I can taste it!**

 **runriot: thank you for your review last chapter and I'm so glad you're enjoying my little fic.**

 **silentC: now that's what I call a review! haha thank you so much for your kind words Heather and I'm ridiculously stoked that you're enjoying Fred and her adventures.**

 **As always guys, happy reading!**

 **-SusieSamurai**


	12. Announcement

Hey Guys! Just letting you all know that I've started a rewrite of Little Red Riding Hood! You can find it on my profile under the new title "Out Of The Woods". I'll be keeping this fic to use as an archive of sorts so I don't lose all the wonderful reviews you left me. I hope to see you all again in the rewrite, otherwise thank you so much for your support.

\- susiesamurai xoxo


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